Arthur Goes Fifth
by Dead Composer
Summary: The continuation of the Arthur Goes Fourth series. Will Arthur and the gang survive fifth grade?
1. First Day of School

This fic is rated PG for mature themes. 

Disclaimer: I still don't own Arthur.

This is the first in a series about Arthur and his friends in fifth grade. It follows the events of the Arthur Goes Fourth series. It helps if you've read that series, but it's not essential.

----

His shirt and pants ripped to shreds, both lenses of his glasses cracked, his feet bare and bloody, Arthur staggered through the foaming surf toward the tropical shore. He could see nothing but bushes, palms, and coconut trees in every direction. The sun-baked sand burned his soles as he stumbled, exhausted, onto the empty beach.

"Hello!" he cried out, his voice hoarse from thirst. No answer came. "Hello out there!" he called again. Silence, except for the lonely cry of a seagull.

The reflection of the glaring sun off of something white caught his attention. It was a FedEx package, one of many that had undoubtedly washed up from his wrecked plane. This was one box that wouldn't be there overnight.

He walked along the shoreline for what seemed like miles, his feet becoming intolerably sore. "Is anybody there?" he shouted again and again, but heard nothing except for the roar of the ocean.

Then his aardvark ears picked up a faint sound--a little girl's voice.

Turning toward the forest, he spotted a small figure running eagerly through the brush. It wore a crude boarskin robe, its long brown hair was tangled and matted, and its face was quite dirty, but he recognized the person as his younger sister, D.W.

She burst through the palm trees, grinning with elation, and threw her arms around Arthur's waist. "Oh, thank goodness!" she gushed. "I'm rescued!"

"Rescued?" the boy rasped. "You're not rescued. My plane went down."

"Oh," said D.W. with a hint of disappointment. "Well, at least I won't be lonely anymore. Can you give me a piggyback ride? My feet hurt."

"Aaaargh!" shrieked Arthur in horror.

An instant later he was back in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a plate of pancakes and eggs sitting before him. His mother, who was in the act of placing a tuna sandwich, apple slices, and a cupcake in D.W.'s Mary Moo Cow lunchbox, was startled by his sudden outburst.

D.W. eyed her older brother curiously. "I think Arthur just had another fantasy sequence," she remarked to Mrs. Read.

"Uh, that's right," said the embarrassed Arthur. "I was imagining my reaction if I get Mrs. Krantz as a teacher. Alan says she's really, really annoying."

Mrs. Read closed up the lunchbox and handed it to D.W. "There, now, you're all ready for your first day of school." The girl wore a cute red dress and pink buckle shoes, and her wavy hair reached to her shoulders.

D.W. warily scrutinized the plastic box in her hands, which bore images of Mary Moo Cow on one side and Mini Moo on the other. "Are you sure there's no spinach in here?" she asked her mother.

"I'm sure," replied Mrs. Read.

"Has anyone else handled the lunchbox since you packed it?" D.W. inquired.

"No."

D.W. reached into her pocket and drew out a small contraption made of Tinkertoys. "I'd like to perform a routine spinach scan," she said officiously, waving the device back and forth over the lunchbox. "It's not that I don't trust you. I'm just doing my job. Bing...bing...bing...okay, it's clean."

As soon as Arthur had devoured his breakfast, he and D.W. lined up at the front door, clutching their lunchboxes and bracing themselves for the commencement of a new school year.

"Say bye-bye, Kate," Mrs. Read encouraged her youngest daughter, who stood wobbling on her feet. The toddler only stared blankly at her older siblings.

"Bye-bye, Kate," Arthur and D.W. encouraged her, waving.

Mrs. Read scowled slightly at Kate's unresponsiveness. "She wouldn't stop saying it yesterday at church," she commented.

D.W. skipped gleefully most of the way to Lakewood Elementary, while Arthur walked deliberately, musing upon his changed circumstances. He had turned ten over the summer, and his sister would turn six before the year was out. A year after that he would be eleven, and she would be seven. He took comfort in the thought that she would never catch up with him, no matter how long they lived.

"I get to go to Arthur's school, I get to go to Arthur's school..." he heard D.W. chant mockingly.

"Try not to embarrass me, okay, D.W.?" Arthur urged her.

"Okay," his sister answered. After a second's thought she added, "What does embarrass mean?"

"Uh...embarrassed is what you get when something funny happens to you, like your pants falling down, and everybody sees it and laughs at you."

"Okay," said D.W. naively. "I won't laugh at you if your pants fall down."

They soon caught up with Muffy and Alan, who were strolling casually and conversing. "Hi, guys," Arthur greeted them.

"Hi, Arthur," Alan and Muffy replied.

"Hi, D.W.," said Muffy with a friendly smile. "Your dress clashes with your hair, but I'll let it slide since this is your first day of elementary school."

"I'm sure glad you can join us in fifth grade," Arthur said to Muffy as the four children meandered along the street.

"So am I," Muffy responded. "This school year should go much more smoothly than the last one. Now that we're poor, there's no chance of my parents sending me back to private school."

As they passed by Mrs. McGrady's house, Arthur noticed something intriguing. "That fence post used to be taller than me," he remarked to the others. Alan and Muffy nodded, reflecting on how much they had grown during the summer alone.

"I saw Dudley yesterday," Alan related. "He's Dudley Green now. The adoption's complete. He gets along fine with his new parents. But he still misses being a girl."

Muffy grinned with satisfaction. "Attaboy, Dudley," she muttered. "They've got your body, but they won't get your soul."

They found numerous children milling about in front of the school entrance when they arrived. Van Cooper and his younger brother Dallin had just been dropped off by Mrs. Cooper and Odette, who were driving away in their old Buick (Quinn had recently left for Harvard). Arthur and D.W. joined the two duck boys as Van rolled up the access ramp in his motorized wheelchair.

"Hey, Van, how're you feeling?" Arthur asked his friend.

"I'm still a little tired," Van replied, "but I'm getting by." The week in July when a sudden liver failure had nearly claimed his life had become a distant, dizzy blur to him.

"Which class are you in?" Dallin asked D.W.

"I dunno," the girl answered.

"She's in room 18," said Arthur. "I don't know who her teacher is. It's someone new."

"Dallin's in the same room," noted Van as Arthur held open the door for him and the two first-graders to go through.

"Together again," said Dallin happily.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" D.W. enthused. "By the way, don't laugh at Arthur if his pants fall down."

Arthur was still blushing when he led D.W. and Dallin into room 18. To her delight, D.W. saw several of her kindergarten-mates--the Tibble twins, Emily, and Nadine Harris, the real little girl who looked like her one-time imaginary friend. James McDonald, the rabbit boy who had kissed her in pre-school, was also seated at a desk.

Francine was there as well, standing at the front of the classroom--as if to cheer on her mother, who was writing her name, Linda Frensky, on the blackboard.

Arthur couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him.

"Hi, Arthur." Francine's greeting was cold and unsmiling.

"Uh, hi," Arthur replied with uncertainty. "Your mom...is...a teacher?"

"Yeah, it's her first day," said the monkey girl.

It was a pleasant sort of shock. Arthur had never imagined Mrs. Frensky doing anything other than hanging around her apartment, making life comfortable for her two daughters. And she could be extremely protective of them, as he had learned upon receiving a severe scolding at her hand. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Arthur Read," she had berated him. "You two-timed my daughter. Do you know what it means to two-time somebody?" He had received a similar lecture from his own mother, and even Beat's mother, all because he had committed a childish error involving a girl's heart. He would never lose the memory of himself and Beat kissing in the shadows of the art room, and Francine discovering them and fleeing the room in tears. He had seen very little of Francine during the summer, and not much more of Beat, as his mother had punished him by imposing a ban on girlfriends.

"I checked the roster," Francine told him, interrupting his reverie. "We've both got Mrs. Krantz."

Arthur's worst fears had been fulfilled. "Aaaargh!" he screamed. All the first-graders gaped at him, including Vicita, who had just walked in.

The corners of Francine's mouth raised a bit, as she felt a small surge of satisfaction at making Arthur suffer for the heartbreak he had put her through.

They exchanged not a single word as they made the "death march" to room 27. Darlene Krantz, the tall, blond moose woman who had replaced Mr. Baker as teacher of Alan and Prunella's class earlier, was sitting at her desk, poring over a lesson plan. She didn't look up as the remaining kids filed in and took their seats. Muffy, Binky, George, Fern, Beat, and Van were present, as well as Buster, whose parents had moved back to Elwood from Chicago. Adil had returned to his native Turkey, while Mavis had been transferred to a different school which her parents felt was better than Lakewood.

Francine grabbed a desk at the near end of the room, while Arthur made his way to the far end, passing Beat Simon along the way. "Hello, Arthur," said the half-rabbit, half-aardvark girl in her refined British accent, but the boy only grunted in response.

He scarcely had time to sit when Mrs. Krantz stood and called the class to order. "Let's get started, okaaaay?" she said in a grating, affected voice. Her slight scowl suggested that she was no happier to be there than her students were.

As she was picking up a slab of chalk, the classroom door opened again, and two people entered. One was Carla Fuente, the Costa Rican beauty who had recently wedded Nigel Ratburn. All the kids gasped in unbelieving surprise at the sight of the sad-looking, orange-haired cat girl who accompanied her.

"Omigosh, it's Sue Ellen!" exclaimed Muffy. "She's back from Karjakistan!"

"But she never..." Fern started to say, but stopped herself.

The air buzzed with murmurs and questions. "When did you get back?" "Did you have a good time?" "Are your parents here too?" Sue Ellen only stood and gazed morosely at her old companions.

"Quiet, please," called the teacher. "As you can see, we have a last-minute addition to our class."

Francine stood silently and motionlessly, her mouth hanging open. She vividly recalled the day when she had despaired of ever seeing Sue Ellen again, as the return of the Armstrongs to Elwood City could prove extremely dangerous. But there she was, undisguised, immediately recognizable. What could it mean?

Seized by terror, she leaped to her feet. "Where are your parents?" she demanded. Sue Ellen didn't answer, but her eyes were becoming misty.

Francine loved the Armstrongs as much as her own parents, as the result of a scientific experiment that had blended Sue Ellen's personality with her own. If something had happened to them, she had to know...

"Please be seated," said Mrs. Krantz, waving a stick of chalk authoritatively, while Carla backed out of the room and let the door swing freely.

Her expression one of grim determination, Francine lunged forward, grabbed Sue Ellen by the arm, and dragged her through the door before it could fully close. Unmindful of the few straggling kids in the hallway, she pushed the cat girl against a row of lockers and once again barked, "Where are you parents?"

Sue Ellen's mouth had opened a bit, but her eyes were still glum and soulless.

"They're gone," she said in a quiet, weak voice. "Disappeared."

Francine's throat collapsed. "Disappeared?" she choked out. "When? How?"

Sue Ellen said nothing. Her eyes widened a little, as if she was reliving something unpleasant.

"Tell me!" shouted Francine, fighting back tears. "Tell me what happened!"

"Not here," replied Sue Ellen, her voice quivering.

In her consternation, Francine barely noticed two tall shadows creeping over her. They belonged to Carla and Principal Haney.

"You're making too much noise," Mr. Haney chided the girls. "And you're late for class."

"We'll go outside," Francine urged Sue Ellen, paying no heed to the principal's criticism. "Then you can tell me everything."

Seizing Sue Ellen by the arm, Francine hastily led her toward the west exit of the school building. Mr. Haney tried to follow, but Carla restrained him with a hand on his shoulder.

By the time the two girls had found a vacant exterior corner, Francine could no longer contain her emotions, and tears were flowing freely down her face. It surprised her that Sue Ellen wasn't following suit; indeed, the cat girl seemed almost like a rag doll, drained of will and feeling.

She spoke softly and timidly. "It was April who led them to us. They started spying on her as soon as she showed up in Elwood City. They guessed she was a relative because she looked so much like me."

"She was you from the future," said Francine, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

"I know," Sue Ellen went on. "Just after she came to stay with us, we were all asleep, and I heard the window break, and the room was full of some kind of gas. I think it was sleeping gas. When I woke up, I was tied to a chair and blindfolded. A man was there--I think it was a man--he used a device to change his voice. He said he was going to kill Mom, and Dad, and April, but he would let me live if Dad told me the truth."

"What truth?" asked Francine, her voice rising in pitch.

Sue Ellen began to speak with difficulty. "The truth...about what he really did...for the CIA."

"What did he do?"

"It's horrible." Pain filled Sue Ellen's voice. "It's the reason why he had so many enemies. He wanted to keep it from me. He never even told April. He faked her death in the future so she wouldn't find out. He was ashamed of it, but he thought he had to do it for his country."

"What did he do?" Francine repeated insistently.

Trembling, Sue Ellen spoke in the quietest tone she could manage.

"He was...an assassin..."

----

to be continued


	2. Buster Meets an Alien

The revelation shook Francine to the core. "An assassin?" she blurted out. "You mean...he killed people?"  
  
"Yes," said Sue Ellen quietly and somberly. "He told me the names of three people..."  
  
"Stop!" yelled Francine, jumping to her feet. "Don't tell me any more!"  
  
Stunned by the sudden outburst, Sue Ellen watched as her friend clenched her fists and fought to regain her composure.  
  
"My name...is Francine Alice Frensky," muttered the monkey girl. "My dad is a garbage man. My name is Francine Alice Frensky."  
  
Sue Ellen slowly rose up and looked down at the grass. "I wish I could say that," she said wistfully. "I wish I had your life."  
  
"Come on," said Francine, rubbing her sore eyes. "Let's get to class."  
  
----  
  
"For today's homework, I want you all to read the first two chapters of 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn' by Mark Twain," announced the zebra man who taught sixth grade. He wore a white shirt and red tie, and a mop of curly black and white striped hair adorned his scalp. On the top of the blackboard was written his name, Jack Boughton.  
  
The bell rang, and the kids in his class stood up to leave. Four of them exited the room together--Alan, Prunella, Mickie Chanel, and a fairly overweight owl boy who wore thick glasses and a yellow denim T-shirt with the initials C.V. emblazoned on the front.  
  
"I can't believe he assigned Huckleberry Finn," Alan remarked. "Especially since he's African-American."  
  
"How can you tell?" Prunella asked him.  
  
"Yeah," the owl boy chimed in. "He's got black and white stripes all over."  
  
"Zebras are from Africa, duh," said Mickie, the orange-braided aardvark girl, in an arrogant tone.  
  
Prunella gestured toward the owl boy's arm as the foursome stopped in the hallway. "What's that bracelet you're wearing?" she inquired.  
  
The boy held up his wrist, around which was wrapped a metal chain attached to a plaque. "This is my brain bracelet," he boasted. "With it, I can control the minds of others and make them do my will." Waving his hand in front of the faces of the other three kids, he intoned, "You will not believe me."  
  
"It works," quipped Mickie.  
  
"It's a medical ID bracelet," Alan observed. "You must be diabetic."  
  
"Yeah, I am," the fat owl boy confirmed.  
  
"Do you have to shoot yourself up every day?" asked Prunella.  
  
"Not since I got my skin patch of power," was the boy's reply.  
  
At that moment a swarm of fifth-graders passed before them, circling around a girl whom Alan and Prunella instantly recognized.  
  
"That looks like Sue Ellen!" exclaimed Alan.  
  
"I didn't expect her back so soon," said Prunella.  
  
"I didn't expect her back at all," Alan added.  
  
All of the kids in Mrs. Krantz' class except for Francine were mobbing the solemn-faced Sue Ellen and bombarding her with questions.  
  
"What do you mean, they disappeared?" Buster asked her. "Then how did you get here?"  
  
"Maybe they were abducted by aliens," George suggested. "I met a real alien while you were gone. He's a good alien."  
  
"I don't know where they are," Sue Ellen grumbled. "No more questions, please."  
  
"What's going on?" inquired Prunella when she, Alan, Mickie, and the owl boy joined the throng.  
  
Fern, upon seeing Alan, immediately grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd. "Sue Ellen's parents are gone," she quietly told him. "Alan, I'm afraid it might be our fault."  
  
While Alan speechlessly took in Fern's news, the owl boy puffed out his chest and offered his services to Sue Ellen. "Never fear," he proclaimed. "As soon as I return to my secret laboratory, I'll find your parents using my telepathic locator helmet."  
  
"Who are you supposed to be?" asked Sue Ellen incredulously.  
  
"Charles Vincent Oberlin," the boy answered. "My friends call me C.V. My enemies call me Captain Valiant."  
  
"You read too many comic books," Mickie chided him.  
  
"You don't read enough," C.V. retorted.  
  
Francine, her eyes still red from suppressed sorrow, shuffled into room 18 to find her mother busily erasing the chalkboard and the first-graders enjoying homemade treats.  
  
D.W., clutching a cookie folded in a napkin, ran up to Francine with the Tibble boys and James in tow. "Your mom's a great teacher," she enthused. "She gave us chocolate chip cookies. Without spinach."  
  
"She taught us how to eat with a napkin like civilized people," said Tommy, who was crushing an empty napkin in his hand.  
  
"The crumbs go on the napkin, not on the floor," Timmy explained. "Then the napkin goes in the trash."  
  
"I think I ate my napkin," said James sadly.  
  
Francine stopped as Nadine jumped in front of her and snatched a cookie from the plate on the desk. "How'd it go, Mom?" she asked her mother.  
  
"It was fun," Mrs. Frensky replied as she set down the eraser. "The kids were well-behaved. I drilled them on the alphabet, but most of them already know it, so I taught them about crosswalks." She bent over and put her hands over her knees. "Are you okay, Frankie?"  
  
Francine lowered her head. "Sue Ellen's back," she muttered.  
  
"Wonderful!" Mrs. Frensky gushed. "You haven't seen her for such a long time. You should be happy."  
  
After staring blankly at her mother for a few seconds, Francine buried her face in the woman's belly and started to cry.  
  
----  
  
Once school let out for the day, Buster followed George and his third-grade sister Salma to their house. "It's so exciting to finally get to meet this guy," said Buster with enthusiasm.  
  
"He's been looking forward to meeting you," was George's response.  
  
"He's a sickiatrist," Sal said innocently. "He helps people who are sick in the head."  
  
When they reached the Nordgren residence, they found two people sitting across from each other in the living room; one was George's mother. The other appeared to George and Sal as a young bulldog man in a navy blue business suit. To Buster's startled eyes, however, he was a creature with green, scaly skin, beady red eyes, and a tentacle-like nose, in a navy blue business suit.  
  
Buster grinned widely and his ears perked up. "Cooooool," he marveled.  
  
The visitor smiled and rose up. "You must be Buster Baxter," he said, extending a lizardlike hand to the rabbit boy. "George has told me quite a bit about you."  
  
Almost too stupefied to move or even breathe, Buster hesitantly lifted a hand to greet the stranger. Despite their appearance, the man's fingers proved to have the texture of human flesh.  
  
"How was your first day of school?" Mrs. Nordgren asked George and Sal as they yanked off their book bags.  
  
"Weird," George answered. "Sue Ellen came back, but her parents didn't."  
  
The green-skinned man led Buster into George's bedroom, closed the door, and sat on the edge of the bed in front of the astonished boy.  
  
"S-so y-you're the man I saw at the airport," Buster stammered in wonder. "You're Dr. Portinari."  
  
"You can call me Rick." The motion of the man's lipless mouth was almost undetectable behind his overhanging, pointed nose.  
  
"Are you really an alien?" asked the excited rabbit boy.  
  
"Do I look like one?" was Portinari's reply.  
  
"Yeah, you do. I think."  
  
The edges of the alien's mouth raised up slightly, and he let out a satisfied sigh.  
  
"There isn't one human in a million who can see through my disguise," he began. "I have a device that sends waves into the brains of humans, making them think that I look like one of them. Only the most powerful minds are immune. Minds like yours, Buster."  
  
"Gosh..." was all the starstruck Buster could say.  
  
"I need a young person with a powerful mind for a special mission," Portinari went on. "I represent a vast Alliance of planets, whose leaders have only now taken an interest in Earth. I expect that by the time you grow up, they will approach your world with an offer of membership. When that time comes, Earth will need an emissary--a human with sufficient intelligence and training to argue for its place in the community of worlds."  
  
"Whoa," mused Buster, understanding just enough of the doctor's words to be highly impressed.  
  
Portinari took a deep breath. "I think you should be that emissary, Buster."  
  
----  
  
to be continued 


	3. DW Meets Mr Soap

Through the vastness of space streaked the starship Secondprize, commanded by Captain Arthur. A gigantic cube-shaped vessel pursued it doggedly, firing green plasma blasts that tore into the Earth ship's deflector shields.  
  
"Hail them," ordered Captain Arthur from his chair in the center of the bridge.  
  
"Aye, sir," said Weapons Officer Binky. As he manipulated the controls on his console, a bay in the rear of the ship opened and released a stream of enormous hailstones, which collided with the hostile vessel and broke into pieces.  
  
"No damage to the enemy ship, sir," Binky announced.  
  
Another plasma burst struck the Secondprize's rear shield, causing the entire ship to rock and tremble for a few seconds. "Again!" squealed Communications Officer Kate.  
  
Captain Arthur turned to his trusted science officer, who stood to the right of his chair. "Analysis, Mr. Brain," he barked.  
  
"We appear to be caught in a Star Trek parody fantasy sequence," said Mr. Brain coldly. "Your options are the following. One, increase speed to evade the enemy. Two, self-destruct the ship to avoid capture. Three, stare into space and quote Shakespeare."  
  
Weapons fire rattled the ship once again. "Damage report," said Captain Arthur to Lieutenant Muffy.  
  
"My console exploded," whined Muffy, her face and clothes singed. "My dress is ruined. I can't take much more of this."  
  
Captain Arthur punched a button on his chair's armrest. "Increase speed to warp factor 9.2," he commanded.  
  
In the engine room, Chief Engineer Fern frantically leapt from one control panel to another, struggling to keep the systems operational. "Increasing speed," she replied upon hearing the captain's order.  
  
The bridge crew stared at the view screen, which showed the enemy spacecraft looming ever closer. "They're still gaining," said Ensign George.  
  
"Increase speed to warp 9.5," Captain Arthur spoke into the commlink.  
  
"But, Captain," Fern protested, "the structural integrity field isn't designed to handle that velocity."  
  
"I changed my mind," replied the captain. "Now I want warp 9.6."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
The ship lurched forward, and started to shake uncontrollably. The bridge crewmembers grabbed hold of any support they could find.  
  
"Fern, what's going on?" shouted Captain Arthur.  
  
"The structural integrity field has failed," Fern reported. "I did warn you, sir."  
  
Alarms went off all over the ship. "Warning," blared a strikingly familiar computer voice. "Thirty seconds until structural breakdown. Twenty-nine. Twenty-six. Four. Twenty-nine."  
  
"D.W., get out of the computer!" exclaimed Captain Arthur angrily.  
  
The computer voice only laughed wickedly. "You will all die horribly in searing pain! Muwahahahaha!"  
  
"Analysis, Mr. Brain," said Captain Arthur to his trusted science officer.  
  
"Your options are the following," said Mr. Brain calmly. "One, cut to a commercial. Two, do the hokey pokey. Three, allow the annoying but indispensable boy genius Buster Baxter to save the ship."  
  
Captain Arthur sighed and gave a reluctant order. "Buster Baxter, report to the engine room."  
  
Chief Engineer Fern gasped when Buster unexpectedly materialized before her. "H-how did you do that?" she stammered.  
  
"I can transcend time and space now, remember?" explained the rabbit boy.  
  
"We've got fifteen seconds before the ship flies apart," Fern informed him.  
  
"Full stop," Buster commanded.  
  
Fern pressed a few buttons, and the ship slowed down and ceased from shaking. "Now we've got fifteen seconds until the alien ship destroys us," she remarked.  
  
"Reroute the plasma conduits through the intake manifolds," said Buster rapidly. "Infuse the plasma with graviton particles while rotating the frequency through the entire spectrum. Then eject the warp core and fire a photon burst through the main deflector dish."  
  
Fern carried out Buster's instructions. The Secondprize spun about wildly, and the bridge crew watched with relief as the attacking vessel exploded into a million smouldering chunks of metal.  
  
"We're saved!" exclaimed Captain Arthur. "Buster, you'll get extra credit for this."  
  
While Buster basked in the glory of having rescued the Secondprize from doom yet again, he heard a voice calling out to him. "So, how about it?"  
  
"Aye, sir!" he saluted. The Portinari alien looked at him quizzically, or at least so it seemed to Buster, as the creature's red pinpoint eyes were hard to read.  
  
"I'll need to run some tests," said the alien. "Just to make sure that your brain has the right configuration. They won't hurt a bit. It should take three days. I'll meet you back here tomorrow after school for the first test."  
  
"Uh, okay," replied Buster. His heart beat quickly at the prospect of being possibly the first human to visit other inhabited worlds.  
  
----  
  
At roughly the same time, Arthur and D.W. were enjoying a leisurely walk to their house. When they were a block away, Arthur decided to test D.W. on what she had learned during her first day.  
  
"Here's another crosswalk," he said, gesturing. "This one doesn't have a crossing guard. What do you do?"  
  
D.W. rubbed her chin. "Uh, I wait until all the cars go by, then I cross the street."  
  
"Very good," Arthur commended her. "Here comes a car now."  
  
A blue station wagon, driven by a horse woman with two children strapped into the back seat, gradually came to a stop before the crosswalk. The woman stared expectantly at Arthur and D.W., who stood still.  
  
"Well?" said Arthur impatiently. D.W. didn't move, but only scowled.  
  
Finally the little girl could bear no more. "Hey, doofus!" she bellowed at the woman in the car. "I've got places to go, you know!"  
  
"D.W., she's waiting for you to cross!" exclaimed Arthur with alarm.  
  
"Oh, now you tell me," groused D.W. as she stepped into the street. "It's only my first day, and you already expect me to know everything."  
  
When they arrived at home, the first to greet them was the over-friendly Pal, who pounced on D.W. and licked her chin. "D-O-G, dog," the girl proclaimed with pride.  
  
Little Kate, clad in a shirt and diaper, waddled toward her older siblings and mumbled, "Deeduboo, Arfur, Deeduboo, Arfur..."  
  
"B-A-B-Y," said D.W., giving her sister a peck on the cheek.  
  
Mr. Read was in the kitchen, covered with flour and kneading lumps of bread dough. "There's my little first grader," he gushed.  
  
"That's right," said D.W. "I'm going to school with the big girls now."  
  
"Dad, Sue Ellen came back," Arthur informed his father. "But she lost her parents."  
  
"Lost her parents?" asked Mr. Read with concern. "What do you mean?"  
  
"They're gone," Arthur replied. "She doesn't know where they are."  
  
Turning his head, Mr. Read called out, "Jane, get in here."  
  
His wife set aside her computer work and hurried into the kitchen. "What is it, Dave?"  
  
"Have you heard anything about the Armstrongs?" Mr. Read asked her. "Arthur says Sue Ellen is back, but her parents are unaccounted for."  
  
"No, I haven't heard a thing," Mrs. Read answered. "I think if something happened to a U.S. diplomat in Karjakistan, it would be on the news."  
  
"Sue Ellen's dad is a spy," D.W. corrected her.  
  
"Where did you hear that?" snapped Arthur.  
  
"I have my sources," said D.W. maturely.  
  
"Where's Sue Ellen now?" Mrs. Read asked Arthur.  
  
"She's with Mr. Ratburn and Carla. We all asked her about her parents, but she doesn't want to answer any questions."  
  
"I hope they're all right, wherever they are," said Mr. Read.  
  
Arthur glanced down at his Bionic Bunny watch. "Hey, it's time for Bunny League," he noted, and hastened into the living room to switch on the TV.  
  
"Mom, can I watch Bunny League?" D.W. pleaded with her mother. "I'm almost six years old."  
  
"It's rated TV-Y7," Mrs. Read answered. "You can watch it when you're seven."  
  
"Oh, (bleep)," moaned D.W.  
  
Her mother gasped. "Dora Winifred, where did you learn that word?"  
  
"At Arthur's school," said D.W. innocently. "I learned lots of new words there. Like (bleep), and (bleep)..."  
  
Mrs. Read took her daughter firmly by the hand and dragged her toward the bathroom. "Let me introduce you to my little friend," she said gruffly. "His name's Mr. Soap."  
  
----  
  
to be continued 


	4. An Invitation for Muffy

After a dinner of kosher meat loaf, Mrs. Frensky undertook to wash the dishes while her husband retired for a nap. Francine and her guest, Sue Ellen, sat on opposite ends of the table and discussed recent events. 

"Catherine joined the Army as soon as she graduated," Francine recounted. "She wants to be a Black Hawk pilot. When she's done, she wants to go to college and get an English degree."

"That's so cool," Sue Ellen responded. "What happened with the jazz quartet?"

"We broke up," Francine answered. "After you left, Fern got a job on the Mary Moo Cow show. Then April came along, and we thought we'd have a sax player again, but everyone got suspicious when they found out she was really you. And after that"--her voice started to break--"after that, something happened that caused me and Arthur to not be friends anymore."

"Tell me about it," Sue Ellen urged.

"Arthur and I became an item," Francine went on. "I was in love with him because I had your personality in my brain, and he finally returned my feelings. But he lost interest in me, and I found out he was seeing another girl."

"He two-timed you."

"Yeah, it was horrible. I cried and cried."

Sue Ellen sighed sympathetically. "And to think I was in love with him once."

"I guess that's why our parents tell us to not get into relationships until we're older," Francine remarked.

"Somehow I don't think it gets any easier," Sue Ellen rejoined.

The two girls stared thoughtfully at the tabletop.

Francine broke the silence. "You can't stay with the Ratburns forever, Sue Ellen. You need to find a new family."

The cat girl nodded. "You're right."

"This morning you said you wished to have my life," Francine continued. "I think you should have my life. After all, you have my memories in your head."

"What are you saying?"

Francine grinned with delight. "I'm saying we should be sisters."

Sue Ellen gaped. Her eyes brightened. Then she shook her head sadly.

"I'd like that more than anything in the world, Francine," she said wistfully. "But it's not possible. Your family has two girls already."

"Catherine's stationed at Fort Lee," Francine pointed out. "You could have her bed."

"How could you afford me?" Sue Ellen insisted. "You couldn't afford Catherine's college education."

"My mom works now," Francine answered. "And Catherine chose to join the Army. She didn't do it so she could afford college."

Sue Ellen lowered her eyes and fell silent.

"Let's ask my mom what she thinks," Francine suggested.

A bit reluctantly, Sue Ellen followed Francine as she left the table. They approached the apron-clad Mrs. Frensky, who was scrubbing a kitchen countertop.

"Mom, what would you think of adopting Sue Ellen?" proposed Francine.

Without looking away from her work, Mrs. Frensky replied, "Don't you think you should find out first whether her parents are alive?"

"They're not," said Sue Ellen matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Frensky laid down her sponge and eyed the girl curiously. "That's not a very optimistic attitude," she remarked.

"Can she at least stay with us until we find out?" Francine pleaded.

"Why can't she stay with her old nanny?" her mother asked impatiently.

"Because I'd rather live with you," Sue Ellen chimed in. "You're the only parents I have left."

Puzzled, Mrs. Frensky looked back and forth between the two girls, then smiled. "Oh, I get it. You're still playing that 'Francine is Sue Ellen and Sue Ellen is Francine' game. Cute."

"It's not a game," Francine retorted. "Sue Ellen and I really did get our brains mixed up."

Mrs. Frensky picked up her sponge again. "It's too early to talk about adoption," she said with finality.

The two disappointed girls wandered back to the dining area. "Maybe she'll change her mind later," said Francine hopefully.

----

The next morning, Buster sat on a bench outside of the Lakewood Elementary building, poring over his fifth grade math book. "X / 7 6," he pondered. "I don't get it. X isn't a number, it's a letter."

It was the beginning of the school day, and Beat was among the children who were flocking toward the school. She passed by Buster and decided to offer him a friendly greeting.

"Hi, Beat," said Buster. "Hey, do you think you could help me with..."

The rabbit boy had a sudden thought. "What am I saying? Dr. Portinari says I have a powerful brain. I shouldn't need Beat's help. I should be able to figure this out on my own."

"Help you with what?" asked the befuddled Beatrice.

"Um, never mind," Buster replied. "I think I've got it."

"Oh, good," said the rabbit-aardvark girl.

Buster returned to staring at the algebra problem, but realized after a few seconds that Beat was still standing in front of his bench.

She spoke a trifle nervously. "I just wanted to say...that I'm happy to have you back with us, Buster. I've greatly missed your jokes and your sunny disposition."

"Gosh, thanks." Buster grinned bashfully.

He then noticed something about the smiling girl before him. She was remarkably cute. He wasn't sure if Beat was deliberately turning on the charm, or if it was something that had always been there, but he hadn't recognized before. Her puppy-like eyes distracted his attention from his mathematical tasks.

"It's working," Beat told herself as she observed Buster's transfixed gaze.

Flipping open her cell phone to check the time, she noted, "Hmm, time for class. I'll see you there, bunny boy."

Throughout the first period history lesson, Buster frequently raised his hand, even for questions he was sure he couldn't answer--but to everyone's surprise, including his own, many of his responses were correct. "Dr. Portinari's right," he marveled silently. "I've had a powerful brain all along, but I haven't been using it. That changes...today."

"You all know the story of Benjamin Franklin flying a kite during a thunderstorm," Mrs. Krantz lectured. "He didn't discover electricity. He already knew about electricity. What he discovered was that lightning is made of electricity."

After the ringing of the bell, Muffy, Binky, Beat, and Buster congregated in the hallway. "Gee, everything I thought I knew about Benjamin Franklin just went out the window," Binky mused. "I thought electricity didn't exist before he came along."

Beat chuckled. "Silly goose. Electricity is part of nature. It's always been around."

"Buster, you've gotten really good at answering questions," said Muffy. "The schools in Chicago must be better than ours."

"No, I'm just trying harder," Buster replied.

The group was approached by Mickie Chanel and the owl boy C.V. Oberlin, both of whom clutched white envelopes in their hands. Mickie held out her envelope to Muffy, smiling and saying, "This is for you. I hope you can make it."

The monkey girl curiously flipped the sealed envelope back and forth, observing that nothing was on the outside except for a small label displaying the address of the Chanel (formerly Crosswire) mansion.

"What is it?" Binky asked her.

Muffy pried the flap open, pulled out a card, and started to read aloud. "You are cordially invited to a party..." Grinning sheepishly, she turned to Mickie and said, "Thanks."

"That's so cool that you live in a mansion," C.V. remarked to Mickie. "Is there a cave underneath with an army of killer robots in it?"

"In your dreams," answered Mickie, rolling her eyes.

"For your information," Muffy pointed out to C.V., "the Crosswire mansion belonged to my family before it belonged to Mickie's."

The bespectacled owl boy seemed not to hear her. "You know what they say about killer robots," he went on. "They're not born. They're made."

Beat giggled. "Oh, that's funny!"

"I don't get it," said Binky.

"Then I'll explain," Beat offered. "They say that people who kill do so not because of their nature, but because of their upbringing. In other words, they're not born, they're made. Which is true of robots. Therefore, it's doubly true about killer robots."

"Oh, I get it now," said Buster, laughing.

Binky shrugged. "I still don't get it."

Beat flashed C.V. a delighted grin. "You're a very clever boy, er..."

The sixth-grade owl puffed out his chest again. "Charles Vincent Oberlin. You can call me C.V."

"C.V.," Beat repeated slowly, batting her eyelashes.

The boy faced Mickie again. "I'm still excited about seeing your mansion," he told her, "even if you don't have a cave with robots."

"It used to be_my_ mansion," Muffy interjected.

Mickie and C.V. walked off, apparently oblivious to her protests. After gazing thoughtfully at the ornately printed card in her hands, she looked up at Buster, Beat, and Binky. "Did any of you get an invitation?" she asked them. All three shook their heads.

Spying Arthur, Van, and George nearby, she hurried over to the three boys. "Did you guys get invitations to Mickie's party?" she inquired of them.

"Mickie's having a party?" Arthur marveled.

"I wasn't invited," said George.

"Me neither," Van added. "But I wouldn't expect her to invite me to anything, after she removed the access ramp from Muffy's mansion to make room for a flower patch."

Walking away from the boys, Muffy wondered why she alone among her classmates had received Mickie's welcome. "It doesn't make sense. She probably invited everyone in her own class, but..."

Then an answer hit her, and her face twisted into a dark scowl.

"That stuck-up twerp," she fumed. "She wants to make me a guest in my own mansion, so she can rub it in my face that it belongs to her now."

----

to be continued


	5. Binky to the Rescue

When morning recess came along, D.W. and Nadine chose to enjoy themselves in the playground. "This isn't like kindergarten at all," D.W. reflected. "The kids are all different sizes."

"And they're all bigger than us," added Nadine, who was wearing a turquoise blouse and shorts in place of her usual petticoat.

On their way to the swings, D.W. gestured toward a grim-faced sixth-grade boy who was leaning against a fence with his arms folded. "Like that kid there," she said. "He's huge."

The boy, who happened to be Rattles, noticed the two girls gawking at him, and shot them an evil glare. "What're you lookin' at?" he growled.

"You," Nadine replied innocently.

Rattles, who wore a ragged brown jacket in spite of the warm weather, advanced menacingly. "And what if I don't wanna be looked at?" he asked rhetorically.

"Then we'll look at somebody else," D.W. replied.

The imposing boy's shadow completely engulfed the two first-graders. "What are your names?" he inquired with no lessening of his threatening tone.

"I'm Nadine."

"And I'm D.W."

Rattles narrowed his eyes at D.W. "What does that stand for?"

"I don't like to talk about it," said D.W. nervously.

Rattles raised a massive fist in front of the girl's face. "Don't get smart with me, or D.W. will stand for Dead Weight."

Struck with terror, the girls screamed and fled. Rattles only smirked, and made no attempt to pursue.

Anxious and panting, Nadine and D.W. concealed themselves behind a hedge next to the street. "He's a very mean boy," D.W. remarked.

"I'm afraid of him," Nadine admitted. "I bet he eats little girls for breakfast."

D.W. peeked over the top of the shrub to see that Rattles had gone back to leaning and glowering. "What'll we do, Nadine?" she wondered. "We have to go to this school every day for the next gazillion years. Sooner or later he'll get us."

Nadine thought for a second, then her eyes lit up. "We'll find a big kid to protect us!"

"That's a great idea!" exclaimed D.W. "And I know just the man."

In another part of the school grounds, Binky was strolling and whistling aimlessly when Molly drew near him. The rabbit girl's overhanging hair had by this time grown to almost reach her nose.

"What's up, Molly?" Binky greeted her.

"Notice anything different?" she asked him, grinning playfully.

Binky thoughtfully scrutinized her from ears to toes. "Uh...you got a new hole in your jeans?"

"No, you doofus," she chided him. "I'm wearing shades."

To make her point clear, Molly pushed up her bushy hair to reveal a pair of dark sunglasses covering her eyes.

"Oh, now I see them," said Binky, chuckling.

After Molly had walked past, Binky saw D.W. and Nadine rushing towards him as if in a panic.

"Binky, help!" D.W. cried out. "There's a big mean boy trying to hurt us!"

"We need you to protect us!" Nadine pleaded.

Binky's stomach sank as the two girls wrapped their arms around his treelike legs. "A...a big m-mean boy?" he stuttered. "How big?"

"Really big!" answered D.W.

"How mean?"

"Really mean!" replied Nadine.

Binky glanced around and fidgeted with his collar. "Is he...is he bigger than me?"

"Uh...no, not really," said D.W. "He's about the same size."

Binky groaned fearfully. "Come with me. I know a place we...I mean, you can hide."

They found a large bush on the edge of the school property, and Binky crouched behind it while the girls knelt in front of him.

Time passed. A few kids went by, but no big mean boys. Then Buster appeared, pulled gently along by Beat.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Buster asked as Binky, D.W., and Nadine spied on the pair through the shrubbery.

"I...just wanted to know how you're coming along with your algebra," said Beat coyly.

"I think I've figured it out," Buster replied. "X is a letter, but it's really a number. It's, like, a mystery number." He looked down at the grass around Beat's shiny new buckle shoes, then up at the tips of her ears. "Have you gotten taller, or have I gotten shorter?"

"You've got the basic idea," Beat commended him. "Almost everyone else in our class has asked me for help. But you...you tapped the potential of your mind and figured things out for yourself. I think that's so...masculine."

Buster could only grin stupidly. Something had definitely changed about this girl--he couldn't put his finger on it, but it made him slightly uneasy.

Then Beat did something utterly spontaneous. She leaned over a bit, and planted her lips firmly on the boy's cheek.

Buster gaped and blushed, astonished not so much by the fact that Beat had just kissed him, as by the fact that she had leaned over to do it. The British girl easily outmeasured him by three inches or more.

Her face now had an odd glow to it. "I'll see you in class, Buster," she said sweetly, and skipped away.

Amazed and embarrassed, Buster rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, hoping to wipe out the cooties before they spread.

Binky carefully rose to his feet, followed by Nadine and D.W., as the rabbit boy walked off. "If Francine were still publishing the Frensky Star," he remarked, "that would be a front-page story."

"Buster and Beat," D.W. marveled. "Never in my wildest dreams."

----

"What are you thinking about?" asked Dr. Portinari. Buster stood before him in George's bedroom, a device fastened to his ears and temples that resembled two metallic plates connected by twisted cables.

"A girl kissed me today," Buster told him.

"Oh, really." The alien was examining the output of a humming electronic console he held in his scaly hands. "Do you like this girl?"

"Uh, sorta, I guess," Buster replied. "I don't know."

Portinari made noises somewhere between humming and purring as he stared at the console. Buster wasn't sure if the doctor was pleased or disappointed with the results. "Is it working?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Portinari. "It's working remarkably well."

"Is it supposed to, like, make me smarter?"

"No," was the alien's response. "It's complicated to explain, but basically it measures how smart you can become, based on the structure of your brain."

After another second or two, Portinari carefully removed the device from Buster's head and placed it in his briefcase, which lay open on George's desk. "Very impressive," he remarked. "But I want to run two more tests, in case this one is just a fluke."

"And if I pass the other tests," inquired Buster, "do I get to go into outer space?"

"If you pass the other tests," answered the alien, "and endure years of hard training."

The words 'hard training' held little appeal for Buster, but he figured that if his mind were truly as powerful as Portinari believed, then he should have no difficulty.

The doctor closed his briefcase and snatched it up. "We'll meet again tomorrow," he announced. "Same time, same place."

----

Beat awoke on Thursday morning, after eight hours of pleasant dreams involving the handsome lad Buster Baxter. The sun's early rays pierced the drapes in her bedroom, bringing promises of a bright, cloudless day to come.

As she sat up, yawned, and stretched, she sensed that something wasn't quite right with her body. This suspicion had haunted her for the past three weeks, but now the feeling of oddness had reached an alarming peak. "What the bloody hell is happening to me?" she wondered.

Climbing out of the bed and into her slippers, she switched on the light and positioned herself in front of the dresser mirror. Unbuttoning her pink nightgown, she pulled it down about her waist, exposing her upper torso. What she saw startled her.

_I've got to tell my mum_, she thought. _I've kept this from her for too long._

----

to be continued


	6. Early Bloomer

Penny Simon, an early-thirty-something aardvark woman, sipped a few mouthfuls of hot tea from her cup and lazily pored over a sheet of computer-printed text. It was yet another story, and a mediocre one at that, which she was reviewing for publication in the British fantasy journal _Pull My Wand_. 

She glanced up as Beat shuffled into the room, her nightgown dangling about her midsection. She wasn't sure how to interpret what she saw. At first she thought her daughter might have injured herself, or ingested a toxic household chemical. It was strange indeed.

"Mum, something's wrong with me," Beat stated the obvious.

Mrs. Simon shook her head in disbelief. "How long have you been like that?" she inquired.

"It started three or four weeks ago," Beat answered. "And I feel funny inside, too."

The aardvark woman left her chair and knelt in front of Beat for a closer look. "Do you feel sick at all?" she asked.

"No, Mum," said Beat. "Just funny."

A moment of silence passed as Mrs. Simon ran her fingers over the consternated girl's chest. A disturbing possibility flashed through her mind, but she quickly pushed it aside.

"I'll call Dr. Campbell," she offered. "Now go take your bath."

Beat started to pull her nightgown up around her arms, then stopped. "I can't go to school like this, Mum," she said anxiously. "The other kids will notice."

Mrs. Simon gave her a sympathetic look. "We'll see what the doctor has to say. Until then, maybe you can cover them up by wearing a sweater."

"But it's September," Beat protested. "And the school doesn't have air conditioning."

"You're a smart little girl," said Mrs. Simon between sips of tea. "You'll think of something."

Only the blazing sun, a few sparrows, and a faraway jetliner were visible in the sky as Beat walked glumly toward the elementary school, dressed in a skirt and a thick wool sweater. She knew she was inviting ridicule, but not as much as she would surely receive without the stifling garment to hide the mutations in her body. With all her intelligence, she couldn't begin to make sense of her situation. Why was she suddenly taller than most of the kids in her class? Why did her heart flutter when she was in the presence of good-looking boys?

"What's with the sweater, Beat?" Fern asked her when she entered Mrs. Krantz' classroom. "Are you expecting a cold front?"

"No," replied the rabbit-aardvark girl as she rested her book bag on a desk. "I'm, uh, having chills. The doctor says I need to stay warm."

"You won't need a sweater to stay warm today," Francine warned her. "The temperature's supposed to reach the low 90s."

Beat groaned as she sat down. The electric fan was blowing at full power, but its stream missed her desk for the most part. Before she could make up her mind to choose a different seat, the teacher had commenced her lecture.

"I'm going to divide you into teams of two," Mrs. Krantz announced. "Each team will write a ten-page report on a famous invention and the person who invented it, due next Friday. Okaaaay?"

"So hot," the sweltering Beat muttered to herself. She let her eyes wander toward Buster, who sat two desks to her left, but that only made her hotter.

"Fern Walters and Beatrice Simon," said Mrs. Krantz. "You're a team."

"Hot...hot..." was all that passed through Beat's mind as the teacher's droning about Thomas Edison went unheeded by her.

When the bell rang, Fern virtually pounced on Beat. "Finally, I get to be teamed with the class brain," the eager poodle girl enthused. "Which invention should we report on? The computer? The polio vaccine? Sliced bread?"

"Yes," grumbled Beat as her new partner followed her into the hallway.

"Let's sit down somewhere and talk about the report," Fern insisted. "I want to hear your ideas."

"Oh, very well," said Beat impatiently.

"You'd be a lot cooler without that sweater," said Fern as she and Beat seated themselves on a bench.

Beat cleared her throat. "I think the polio vaccine would make an excellent subject," she said in a weary tone. "Jonas Salk was a fascinating individual."

Her planning session with Fern lasted only a few minutes, but it was enough to make her nervous. Whenever she spoke, she noticed that Fern seemed to steal peeks at her sweater at every opportunity. Could she tell?

The course was grueling, but Beat made it through the morning periods and lunch hour without removing her precious sweater. But she had failed to consider one formidable obstacle--gym class.

Many of the fifth-grade girls, including Muffy, Francine, Sue Ellen, Fern, and Jenna, were changing out of their street clothes into athletic outfits. Mrs. Taylor, the rat woman who taught gym, was spinning a soccer ball on the end of her finger, pacing about in anticipation of an exciting match with the boys.

Beat, meanwhile, leaned against a row of lockers, still wearing her chafing sweater. "Mrs. Taylor, I'd like to sit out of today's game," she requested.

"Why?" asked the teacher. "Aren't you feeling well?"

"Uh...er..." Beat's mind groped for an excuse, and she knew she couldn't pass as a sickie very well. "I feel fine. It's just that...well, I'm the best soccer player in the fifth grade, and I'd prefer to practice a sport that I'm not very good at, so I can improve."

"Come on, Beat," urged Jenna, who had overheard the exchange. "We love playing football with you."

"Especially when we're on your team," Muffy added. "You're invincible."

"All the same..." Beat started to say, but cut herself off when Fern stepped up to her with a mischievous expression.

"Omigosh! A tarantula!" cried the poodle girl, pointing over Beat's shoulder.

Startled, Beat turned her head and shoulders. Fern, taking advantage of the distraction, wrapped her fingers around the front rim of Beat's sweater and undershirt...and yanked them up as far as they would go.

She and the other girls gasped in disbelieving wonder at the sight of Beat's exposed chest.

"Would you look at those things," Jenna marveled.

"How come you get them before we do?" Sue Ellen complained.

"But...you're too young," said Francine in astonishment.

Beat, shocked and embarrassed beyond words, could only rip her sweater away from Fern's hands and pull it down over her torso.

"Sorry to be rude," said Fern gently, "but you can't hide something like that forever. I first noticed them two days ago. I didn't believe they were really what they appeared to be until you tried to cover them up with a sweater."

"How old are you, Beatrice?" Mrs. Taylor inquired.

"Almost ten," replied Beat, her eyes lowered in shame.

"It's nothing to feel bad about," said the gym teacher. "I once met a girl with the same problem, and she was only eight."

"Problem?" Beat wondered. "What problem?"

----

"Premature puberty," explained Dr. Campbell, a sheep man dressed in a medical uniform. "It's a rare condition, sometimes brought on by exposure to pesticides or other toxins." Beat was seated shirtless on his examination table, while Mrs. Simon stood nearby with her husband Roger, a rabbit man. "It may explain why she's growing faster than her friends."

"Would it explain why I'm so interested in boys?" Beat speculated.

"Definitely," replied the doctor.

"What can be done about it?" Mr. Simon inquired.

"Well, there's hormone therapy for slowing down her development until she reaches the right age," Dr. Campbell answered. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. Nearly all girls who receive treatment for this problem grow up normally."

"Doctor," said Mrs. Simon seriously, "I'm worried about something. If Beat's attracted to boys earlier than she should be..."

"I was about to bring that up," said the doctor. "It would be a good idea to enroll your daughter in a sex ed course."

"Ewww," groaned Beat.

----

For the third time, Buster stood motionlessly with Dr. Portinari's measurement device strapped to his head. The alien doctor sat on the edge of George's bed, checking the readout from his handheld console with more glee than usual (although Buster had difficulty telling one emotion from another on the man's otherworldly face). "Excellent," he said repeatedly.

This went on for several minutes, and then Portinari retrieved the device and replaced it in his briefcase. "What did you find out?" Buster asked him.

The alien didn't respond, but continued to push buttons on his console. A few more seconds went by, and Buster witnessed a startling transformation.

Portinari's entire head seemed to flicker in and out of existence. In little more than an instant, it was replaced by the head of a young bulldog man.

Buster's jaw dropped. "Perfect," the man said with a satisfied smile.

As Portinari closed his briefcase and stood up, Buster stepped closer to him. "So...what happens now?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll call for you when you're needed," replied the bulldog man with hardly a sideways glance.

Buster trailed him as he entered the living room, where George, Sal, and Mrs. Nordgren were watching a TV news broadcast. "Thank you for allowing me to visit," said Portinari. "I'll be on my way now."

Mrs. Nordgren flashed him a toothy grin. "Any time, doctor."

When Portinari had left the house, Buster motioned for George to join him in the bedroom. "What did he do?" the moose boy asked him after they had closed the door.

"He did some tests on my brain," said Buster with uncertainty. "He said he wanted to find out if I have a superior brain. After the last test, he didn't look like an alien anymore. He looked human."

"Hmm," said George pensively.

The boys fell silent for a few moments.

And then George slapped his forehead. "Oh, man..."

"What?" said Buster.

George groaned disappointedly. "It was a trick, Buster. He examined your brain so he could fix the problem with his technology that let you see him as an alien."

Horror and confusion seized Buster's mind. "But...but...he said..."

"He lied," stated George solemnly.

Without another word, the outraged Buster flung himself out of the bedroom and through the front door of George's house. He was too late. Portinari, still appearing to him as a common anthropomorphic bulldog, was pulling away from the curb in his green Volkswagen.

Buster ran to the sidewalk and shook his fist at the departing vehicle. "YOU STUPID ALIEN!" he screamed.

----

to be continued


	7. The Best Is Yet to Come

The next morning was Friday, and everyone in Mickie's sixth-grade class, especially Mickie herself, eagerly anticipated the party that would take place at the Chanel mansion that evening. 

Muffy had just arrived at Lakewood when she spotted Mickie further down the hallway, wearing an expensive velvet dress. _I hope she doesn't see me_, she thought.

But she did. "Hey, Muffy!" exclaimed the rich aardvark girl. "I'm looking forward to seeing you at the party at my place."

Rather reluctantly, Muffy trudged over to where Mickie was standing with a few girls from her class. "Oh, right," she said sarcastically. "I mustn't forget about the party at_your_ place. I wouldn't want to miss the party at_your_ place, Mickie."

Before Mickie had a chance to detect the hint of bitterness in Muffy's words, she saw Beat Simon walking past with an unhappy scowl. The rabbit-aardvark girl was wearing one of her regular blouses, without a sweater...and her new figure was plainly visible.

Mickie gestured slightly, directing Muffy's attention to Beat. "Are those real?" she wondered aloud.

"Yes, they are," Muffy affirmed. "I've seen them."

Mickie put a hand over her mouth and started to giggle helplessly. "That's so freaking weird," she choked out.

"Don't make fun," Muffy scolded her. "She can't help it if her body develops faster. A lot of kids have that problem." She grinned against her will. "But you're right. It is freaking weird."

Beat joylessly greeted Fern, Francine, and Sue Ellen on her way to Mrs. Krantz' room, and all three girls had varying levels of success in suppressing their giggles.

"I'm sorry for laughing at you," Francine told her.

"So am I," Sue Ellen added. "But I can't help it."

"Better to deal with it now, instead of putting it off," Fern remarked.

Poor Beat was even further demoralized when Buster failed to raise his hand for even one question during the course of the history lesson. The rabbit boy simply stared into space, and seemed to pay no attention to the presentation. Feeling concerned, she led him aside after the class was dismissed.

"You didn't answer any questions," she quietly pointed out. "Is something wrong?"

Buster stared sadly at the floor. "I don't have a powerful brain after all," he lamented. "I just have an ordinary brain."

"You don't need a powerful brain," Beat reassured him. "You just need to use the brain you've got."

Buster smiled slightly. "That's corny, but it helps."

Beat leaned forward a bit as if getting ready to kiss Buster again, but stopped herself. "There's one other thing I wanted to tell you," she half-whispered.

"What's that?"

The morose girl fumbled for words. "I...really enjoyed...kissing you, Buster. But I can't kiss you anymore. My mum says it's best if I give up boys for the time being."

"Why?" asked the intrigued Buster.

"It's hard to explain," said Beat, her voice quivering. "My mum tried to explain it to me, but I didn't understand fully. She says my body is changing too soon, and if I get involved with a boy, I could make a mistake and bugger up my life. Those weren't her exact words."

"Your body's changing, all right," Buster observed. "You're taller, and your chest is all lumpy."

Beat smiled bitterly. "And the best is yet to come, I'm afraid."

----

"What you see before you," said Mickie with a sweep of her arm, "is an exact miniature replica of the Queen Elizabeth II."

In one of the many rooms of the Chanel mansion, most of the students from Mr. Boughton's class were admiring the enormous, lavishly detailed toy boat, which rested on a foam rubber surface.

"Is it operational?" asked the wonder-struck Prunella. "I mean, does it rock back and forth like a real ship?"

"Yes, it does," Mickie replied. "We even added a ramp so we can move it into the swimming pool. But we keep it here most of the time."

"Because the chlorine can stain the finish," Alan pointed out.

"Exactly. Once the former owner of my mansion arrives, we'll all go for a tropical cruise."

Nearby, C.V. was examining a mysterious door. "Does this lead to the cave with the killer robots?" he asked Mickie.

"No," the girl answered. "It's the bathroom."

"Are there killer robots?"

Mickie sighed impatiently. "As long as they put the seat down when they're done."

Hearing a ring of the doorbell, Mickie hurried toward the front entrance to answer it, only to nearly run into a manservant who was walking in the same direction. "Sorry, Bailey," she apologized.

"The fault was mine, Miss Mickie," said the servant, who obligingly stood to one side.

When Mickie pulled open the large pine door, she was treated to the sight of a dissatisfied frown on the face of Muffy Crosswire. "Come in, Muffy," she welcomed the girl. "You're just in time. Well, maybe a little late."

"I put an access ramp at the front of the house so my handicapped boyfriend could come and go in comfort," said Muffy as she stepped into the mansion. "And you removed it and replaced it with...what? Rhododendrons! What were you thinking, Mickie Chanel?"

"We added a new ramp at the back of the house," said Mickie, showing Muffy to where the other kids were congregated.

"The back?" Muffy groused. "I hope you don't have any handicapped friends, because they'll feel like second-class citizens here."

As Alan and Prunella moved forward to greet her, Muffy noticed a pleasing change to the living room's decor--gorgeous, cherry-colored paneling. It was an improvement she herself might have mandated.

"You...replaced the paneling..." she said rapturously. "It's...it's..."

Then she caught herself, remembering the purpose of her visit.

"It's vomitrocious!" she complained vehemently.

"Thank you, Muffy," said Mickie warmly. "I don't know what that word means, but I'll take it as a compliment."

"Now that you're here," Alan told Muffy, "we can go on that cruise Mickie promised."

"Right this way," said Mickie, waving for all to follow her.

Muffy grimaced as she inspected the wallpaper in the hallway. "This pattern looks like someone squished a bug and made copies," she grumbled.

She was the last to arrive in the QE2 room. "The stairway to the deck is on the left," Mickie instructed her friends. "I'll control the rocking motion from this panel. If you start feeling seasick, let me know."

When Muffy laid eyes on the cruise ship replica, she nearly fainted. It was the most fabulous plaything she had ever beheld. She would have gladly saved her allowance for ten years to possess it...

...yet she had to come up with another witty insult. And she couldn't. She was too busy stammering in awe.

"Are you okay, Muffy?" asked Prunella.

"Humina humina humina..." was all Muffy could get out of her mouth.

"I think she likes it," remarked Alan.

Shaking her head vigorously, Muffy finally returned to her senses, and made the cleverest comment that she could manage.

"It stinks."

The room fell silent.

C.V. sniffed the air. "I don't smell anything. And I have a super-enhanced olfactory sense."

"How does it stink?" asked Mickie, who sounded slightly offended.

Muffy clarified her statement as best she could. "It just...stinks."

While Mickie rolled her eyes in frustration, Prunella leaned over Muffy and glared piercingly at her. "I think you should show our hostess a little more respect," said the rat girl indignantly. "You are, after all, a guest in her house."

"Yes, I am," replied Muffy, directing her accusing gaze at Mickie. "I'm a guest in_your_ house, which used to be_my_ house, and you'll never let me forget that. That's why you invited me here--so you can show me how fortunate you are, and how unfortunate I am, and how much you've improved on what used to belong to me!"

"No, it's not," said Mickie calmly.

The aardvark girl's soft answer took Muffy by surprise, and she could only gape.

"I invited you because one of the girls in my class had to travel," Mickie explained. "I had an invitation left over, and I figured you might want to see your old place again. I'm not trying to belittle you, Muffy."

No one dared move or speak. All eyes were on Muffy, whose head spun in an attempt to piece together what she had heard.

Finally she lowered her head and spoke contritely. "Oh, geez. I've been such a jerk. Please forgive me, Mickie."

"I'll let it slide this time," said the rich girl.

"I said all those mean things because I didn't want you to think I was jealous," Muffy continued. "The rhododendrons are beautiful. In fact, rhododendrons are my favorite flower. And the cherry paneling...it's to die for. The wallpaper's great too. And the boat...oh, I'd give anything to have that boat..."

"You do have the boat," Mickie informed her. "For tonight, at least."

Overwhelmed, Muffy took several breaths before going on. "It's all so wonderful, Mickie. You've made more of this house than the Crosswires could ever make of it, and I'm saying that as a Crosswire. Can I be your disciple?"

"Get in line," quipped Mickie.

----

While Muffy enjoyed an imaginary cruise on the QE2 with Mickie and her classmates, Beat's girlfriends paid her a surprise visit to show their support during her time of change. "It's like bat mitzvah, only three years early," Francine described it to her. "Today you are a woman."

Fern, Sue Ellen, and Jenna were also present at the Simons' apartment, and Beat's mother was helpful enough to prepare popcorn and make a trip to the video store. Her natural preference being fantasy movies, she brought back three selections--_Sloppy Blockhead's Totally Bogus Homework Assignment_, _Sloppy Blockhead's Totally Bogus Homework Assignment Two_, and _Sloppy Blockhead's Totally Bogus Homework Assignment Two Two_.

Jenna and Beat stood back to back while Fern compared their heights with a tape measure. "Not counting ears, Beat's taller than Jenna by three and a half inches," the poodle girl reported.

"I don't believe it," Jenna marveled. "We used to be the same height."

"Would you like to compare any other measurements?" Fern asked the two girls.

"Absolutely not," replied Beat.

"Let's watch a movie!" shouted Francine, grabbing the topmost video from the pile.

"Quiet, everyone!" Sue Ellen barked.

The other girls froze and fixed their gaze on the cat girl, who was staring at the TV screen with wide eyes and open mouth.

"This just in," said the news reporter. "A twelve-year-old girl has confessed to the theft of a valuable crystal from Los Cactos National Laboratory."

The next face to appear on the screen caused Francine to nearly jump out of her shoes.

"She's alive," she muttered unbelievingly. "April's alive."

----

The End of Arthur Goes Fifth I


	8. Thoroughly Modified Molly

Within an hour of the TV news broadcast indicating that April Murphy was alive and accounted for, Francine, Sue Ellen, Mrs. Cooper, and Odette gathered at Mr. Ratburn's house, where the teacher lived with his new wife, Carla. All present were expressing their astonishment that April had confessed to the theft of a valuable crystal, and was in police custody.

"I thought she was just a normal girl," Odette marveled. "I never imagined she would steal anything, let alone secret scientific stuff."

"I've had no luck reaching her on the phone," Mr. Ratburn related. "Apparently the FBI is involved, and they won't let her talk to anyone."

"We've got to get in touch with her," said Sue Ellen earnestly. "If she's alive, that means my parents may be alive too."

"Someone needs to go to Los Cactos and bail her out," said Carla. "But she has no family."

"I'll do it," Mrs. Cooper offered.

"Really, Mom?" responded Odette, her eyes lighting up.

"We have more than enough in our college fund," the duck woman continued.

"Can I go too?" asked the swan girl hopefully.

"Certainly," replied her mother. "But it's all boring desert."

"I still don't understand why she stole the crystal in the first place," said Carla.

"Perhaps I can explain," came a voice from the propped-open door.

All eyes turned and beheld a blond rabbit woman in a turquoise blouse and short skirt, who had welcomed herself into the house.

"Hi, Augusta," Francine greeted her.

"Hello, Francine," the woman replied. "And Nigel, and Carla...and mini-April."

Sue Ellen made a bewildered face.

"I'm Valerie Cooper," Mrs. Cooper introduced herself. "And this is my daughter, Odette."

"I'm Augusta Winslow." Augusta shook hands with the duck lady.

"April told me about you," Sue Ellen blurted out.

"I've heard the most fantastic stories about you," said Mrs. Cooper to the rabbit woman.

"They're all true," was Augusta's reply. "Except for the one about being a natural brunette."

"Then...you're a witch," said Mrs. Cooper, taking a nervous step backwards.

"When I'm not selling houses," Augusta admitted, then turned to Carla. "I promised you an explanation, and here it is. Three years from now, at least in the old timeline, Sue Ellen--or April, as she'll be known--will use a time device of my invention to travel to our day. When she arrived, she stole the crystal from Los Cactos in the hope that I would be able to conduct an experiment with it that would change the fates of her parents."

"So April and Sue Ellen are the same person, just different ages," Odette mused. "It makes sense, if you believe in time travel."

Augusta grinned. "I believe in a lot of things. At the moment, I believe we should work together to bring April home."

Mrs. Cooper couldn't help but scowl disapprovingly. "I can do it without your help," she insisted.

Beaming, Augusta stepped closer to the anxious woman. "April's case is special," she explained. "The government won't give her up easily. You may find my powers of persuasion to be advantageous."

It appeared to her that Mrs. Cooper was sweating.

"My mom has this thing about witches," Odette pointed out.

----

"Odette and I just agreed to go on a cross-country trip with a witch," Mrs. Cooper related to Reverend Fulsome, as her family (minus Quinn) had gathered at the church on Sunday morning. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

The rabbit man cleared his throat. "That depends," he replied indifferently. "Are you going by plane, car, or broom?"

Mrs. Cooper, leading little Megan by the hand, seated herself on a pew with her husband and children. Odette's long neck stood out among the parishioners like a lone tree on a prairie.

The chapel lacked air conditioning, but was cooled by ceiling fans. This was no comfort to Arthur and D.W., who squirmed restlessly while Kate drew random circles in a coloring book at their feet.

"Kate's lucky," D.W. remarked. "She gets to do whatever she wants, but we have to sit quietly and listen to the boring lecture."

Arthur nodded. "I guess we should get used to it. I hear heaven's really boring too, and you have to stay there forever."

"I wish something exciting would happen," sighed D.W.

"Me too," said Arthur. "Or at least something different."

And then something different happened.

A rabbit couple walked past their bench. They wore humble clothing, but were dressed properly for the occasion. The man had a rough, unshaven appearance, but smiled as if the entire world belonged to him. Arthur had seen the woman attend church meetings on occasion, but never the man, or the girl who accompanied them. He recognized her as Molly McDonald, the infamous girl bully of Lakewood Elementary.

Recognizing her wasn't easy, as her hair had been lopped off over her round, hazel eyes, and she was wearing a red dress.


	9. Cleansing Power

Turning her head, Molly quickly noticed that Arthur was gawking at her. "What are you staring at?" she asked with a tone of menace. She seemed even more fearsome than before, now that Arthur could see her threatening eyes.

While the aardvark boy gritted his teeth, expecting at any moment to be painfully pulverized, the rabbit man lifted his hand and flicked Molly's left ear with his finger. "Be nice, Molly," he ordered sternly.

To Arthur's surprise, Molly forced a smile and waved weakly at him.

Whoever this man was (and Arthur surmised he was Molly's father or male guardian), the girl was obviously afraid to disobey him. As long as he could remember, neither he nor any of his friends had seen Molly's eyes unobscured by shaggy hair, or Molly wearing anything other than a tattered shirt and jeans.

As Arthur watched, the rabbit man strolled up to the podium where Reverend Fulsome sat, and the clergyman rose and greeted him with a warm hug. He had only seen the reverend hug someone other than Mrs. Fulsome once before, and that was at a funeral. What was so special about this man?

He soon learned the reason, as the reverend positioned himself behind the podium and silenced the congregation. "We are happy to have BenMcDonald among our number today," he proclaimed, gesturing toward the unshaven man, who had taken a seat in the front row with Molly and her mother. "Many of you know the story of Ben's past, and how he made wrong choices that led him to a life of crime, and eventually prison. I visited him many times as he served his sentence, and I am happy to report that he has begun a new life through the cleansing power of Jesus, and was finally released on parole yesterday."

Surprised murmurs filled the chapel, some suspicious, some with an air of relief and gladness. Attorney Mel Cooper was among the wary ones. "I'll believe he's changed when I see it," the duck man muttered to his wife.

As the multitude sweltered in the hot chapel, Fulsome delivered a sermon on contrition and forgiveness, using Ben McDonald's turnaround in prison as an example. After he had dismissed the parishioners, the Reads and the Coopers thronged together by the parking lot. Molly and her parents stopped in front of them long enough for Molly to flash a nervous smile.

"She sure seems friendly now," Arthur remarked.

"Not that we have anything to fear from her," said Odette, thinking back to the day when she had given the rabbit girl a firm pecking for taunting Binky.

D.W. hopped into Van's lap, and the duck boy gave her a wheelchair ride as Arthur followed along. "Quinn's at Harvard now," Van told them. "You don't have to worry about her babysitting you again."

"Oh, goody," said D.W., grinning. "The last time she threatened to give me a spinach juice transfusion."

"Have you ever been to Los Cactos?" Van asked Arthur.

"No," the aardvark boy answered. "I don't even know where that is."

"It's in New Mexico," Van explained, "in the middle of the desert. A lot of scientists live there. Mom and Odette are going there next week."

"What for?"

"April Murphy's being held by the police there," Van went on. "Sue Ellen thinks she's the only person who knows what happened to her parents."

"I hope they're all right," said Arthur.

"I've done legal consulting at Los Cactos on a number of occasions," recounted Mr. Cooper, who had walked up alongside the three kids. "It's a complete wasteland. Nothing to do there but sit around and invent things that can blow up the world. They didn't even have a Wal-Mart until two years ago."

When Arthur returned home, he didn't waste a second before calling Binky to comment on Molly's new image and the change in her family situation.

"Yeah, it's great," Binky enthused. "My dad was a witness at the parole hearing. Ben's coming to our place for dinner tonight. Maybe you'd like to meet him."

"Sure," said Arthur.

After hanging up the phone he hurried to the kitchen, where his parents were preparing lunch. "Mom, can I go to dinner at Binky's?" he requested.

"Not today," Mrs. Read replied. "Grandpa Dave's coming over."

Arthur groaned. How was it possible that he could be descended from the most boring old man in the universe? He would have to wait for another chance to meet the intriguing ex-criminal Ben McDonald.

----

Muffy managed to avoid another of her mother's awful home-cooked meals by accepting an invitation to Jean Stiles' apartment. The paint was still peeling in the hallway as she stepped up to the door and knocked.

The door slowly opened. "Come in, Muffy," said the smiling polar bear woman who greeted her.

Muffy noticed a few differences about the lonely apartment as she entered. The posters on the walls advertising little-seen movies in which Mrs. Stiles had appeared, had been joined by several Mary Moo Cow posters. The most unexpected change of all was a bassinet in one corner of the living room.

"I made sugar cookies," said Mrs. Stiles, holding out a plate of treats.

But Muffy was too absorbed by the presence of the bassinet. Leaning cautiously over it, she beheld that it did, indeed, contain a baby.

It was a tiny, robust-looking boy, with a pointed nose and ears like a rat's. His eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of the strange girl who towered over him, then wandered away.

"He's...he's so cute," Muffy gushed. "Is he yours?"

"I wish," replied the former teacher.

Then Muffy heard from behind her the voice of a dear friend whom she had feared never to see again.

"Hello, Muffy."

She whirled about. "Angela!"

All of the world's oceans couldn't contain her joy, or stop her from throwing her arms around the rat woman with whom she had faced so many dangers.

"Angela, it's you!" Tears of happiness dropped from Muffy's eyes. "You're back! You're safe! I was so afraid the police would get you!"

"So was I," said Angela Ratburn, Nigel's twin sister, as she combed Muffy's braided hair with her nails. "Did you meet little Graham?"

"The baby," Muffy realized. "I'm so glad you and your baby are all right. I was afraid you'd have your baby in jail."

With an arm around her shoulders, Angela led Muffy to where baby Graham lay, and placed a bottle of formula in front of the infant's lips. "Jean was kind enough to let me and Graham stay here for a little while," she related.

"Are you staying here for good?" asked Muffy earnestly. "Please say yes."

"Yes," Angela answered, "if I can find an employer who will take me."

"Too bad my dad isn't hiring," said Muffy solemnly. "The car dealership isn't doing very well. We had to sell the mansion."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Angela, holding the bottle carefully while Graham drank from it.

"There must be someone who will give you a job."

"It's not that simple." Angela reached up and brushed some hairs from her face. "I've lived under fake names for so long, it's a challenge to establish my real identity. Even Social Services asks more questions than I'm able to answer."

"Your family..." Muffy started to say.

"I've already talked to Nigel and Rodentia," Angela recounted. "They're more civil toward me now, but they think I should clean up my own mess."

"But it's not a mess!" Muffy cried indignantly. "It's a baby!"

Angela bowed her head sadly. The sorrow in her expression was greater than Muffy had ever seen. "You tell her, Jean," she instructed Mrs. Stiles.

Muffy's one-time teacher stared at the floor while she spoke. "Angela is giving up her baby for adoption."

Muffy's jaw dropped in horror.


	10. Super Boy

"No, you can't!" Muffy exclaimed angrily. "He's your baby!"

Angela put her hands on Muffy's shoulders and gazed at her somberly. "Please try to understand. I can't afford to support a baby in my situation."

"But you could support me when we lived together," Muffy insisted, anguish filling her voice.

"That was for three weeks," Angela pointed out. "And don't forget you had your credit cards."

Muffy tasted salty tears in her mouth as she searched for words to dissuade Angela from giving her child to another.

"I'll be perfectly frank with you, Muffy," Angela continued, pulling her hands away from the girl. "You forced yourself on me. I enjoyed having you around, but I knew I couldn't support both of us, if I kept getting minimum-wage jobs." She took a deep, hesitant breath. "If your little duck friend hadn't turned you over to the police, I would have."

Muffy's heart twisted like a sponge. It shocked her to hear such an admission from a woman she had loved almost as much as her own mother. Unable to bear any more painful disappointment, she burst into tears and fled from the apartment.

She cried bitterly and wrung one of her braids as she walked along the street toward the Crosswire condo. She had nearly sacrificed everything to give Angela a shot at a new life, and this was all the gratitude she received? She wished desperately that she could help the woman and allow her to keep the baby, but she no longer commanded the same financial clout as before.

In the midst of her lamentations, a boy's voice called out to her. "Muffy? What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

Muffy glanced about. Through the tearful haze she made out the image of an owl face belonging to the new sixth grader, Charles Vincent Oberlin, better known as C.V. He stood behind a chain-link fence in front of a small, pastel-green house with a thatched roof. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

Muffy pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dried the tears from her cheeks, and cleaned the mucus from her nostrils. "I...I..." was all she managed to say.

C.V. pulled open the gate and motioned to her. "Come inside, you can tell me all about it."

Thinking that discussing her woes with someone else might make her feel better, Muffy followed the owl boy through the front door of his house. She sniffled and looked around. Decor-wise, it resembled many other houses she had seen. What struck her as remarkable was the extreme cleanliness and order--everything from the candles on the mantle to the pillows on the couch was positioned in perfect symmetry, as if it were a model home in a new development.

"Wipe your feet, Muffy," said C.V., pointing at the floor.

Out of politeness she made a habit of wiping her feet upon entering a house, but this time she had neglected the chore due to her emotional distress. She dutifully began to scrape her shoes on the floormat.

"Dad goes crazy when people come in without wiping their feet," C.V. explained.

Muffy noticed the presence of two owl people in the living room, presumably C.V.'s parents. The bespectacled woman sat in an easy chair reading a news magazine, while the much taller man watched football on TV from the couch. They turned their heads when C.V. announced, "Mom, Dad, this is my friend Muffy, from school."

"Pleased to meet you, Muffy," said the owl woman, rising. The owl man remained seated.

Encouraged by C.V., Muffy walked slowly into the living room, seated herself on the couch next to Mr. Oberlin, thoughtlessly picked up one of the pillows, and dropped it in her lap. "Put the pillow back, please," the owl man ordered gruffly.

As the slightly confused Muffy replaced the pillow in its original location, C.V. explained to his parents the reason for Muffy's arrival. "She was walking by the house, crying. I thought I'd invite her in."

"Fine," said Mr. Oberlin grumpily, "as long as she doesn't get snot everywhere."

The man's unwelcoming tone made Muffy feel like a stray dog who had wandered in. He stared at the beer commercial that had interrupted the football game, hardly paying attention to her.

"I'm sorry my husband isn't more friendly," said Mrs. Oberlin, taking her seat again. "He's been struggling with OCD since the accident."

"What's OCD?" asked Muffy.

"Obsessive-compulsive disorder," Mrs. Oberlin replied. "Five years ago he was fighting a fire, and a tank of chemicals exploded in his face. He was catatonic for weeks."

"He was a fireman?" Muffy inquired.

"Yes," the owl woman answered. "He's on disability now. We get by on my income. I'm a manager at a department store."

"Why don't you tell us what you were crying about?" asked C.V., who stood by the couch. "Is it because you aren't rich anymore? Or did you break up with your boyfriend?"

"No, it's neither of those things," said Muffy as she mopped her eyes with her handkerchief.

"You don't have to tell me," said C.V. "I'll just read it from your mind using my powers of telepathy." He placed his fingers over his temples. "Let's see...it's not money, it's not love...wait, I've got it. You have a friend who's in trouble."

"Yes, I do," Muffy confirmed.

"Your friend is a girl."

"Uh, she's female, yes."

"And she broke up with her boyfriend."

Muffy let out an exasperated sigh.

C.V. lowered his hands. "Your brain is hard to read, Muffy."

"Then I'll just tell you," said Muffy bitterly. "My friend is going to put her baby up for adoption because she thinks she's too poor to raise him."

The faces of both Mr. and Mrs. Oberlin lit up with intrigue.

"She isn't married," Muffy went on. "Her family doesn't care about her. She can't get a good job. I wish I could find a way to help her, so she can keep her baby."

Mrs. Oberlin pulled open a drawer in a nearby end table, and plucked out a pen and a pad of paper. "I should talk to your friend," she offered. "Maybe I can help."

Hope sprang up in Muffy's heart. "Her name's Angela Ratburn," she said, then repeated Mrs. Stiles' telephone number as C.V.'s mother scribbled on the pad.

When this was done, C.V. invited Muffy to take a look in his bedroom, and she followed him. The room was entirely unlike the rest of the house--the bed linens were in disarray, and dirt and crumbs littered the hardwood floor. Posters of various comic book superheroes covered the walls and ceiling.

"Whoa," marveled Muffy, trying to conceal her distaste. "This is the most, uh, super bedroom I've ever seen."

C.V. chuckled. "That's funny because it's true."

Muffy scanned the room further. A few of the dresser drawers were hanging open, with socks and undergarments dangling over the sides. Ragged stacks of old comic books lay on top of the dresser and reflected in the mirror.

"That's Infinity Man," said C.V., waving his finger at various posters. "And that's Dragon Goddess. She's a girl superhero, but I like her anyway. And that's Dr. Droid. He's a really cool villain who wants to destroy all humans and repopulate the Earth with robots."

"Uh, that's nice," Muffy muttered indifferently.

"And that's the League of Super Freaks," C.V. continued. "They're the world's worst superheroes. Captain Credenza is the leader. He can turn into any kind of furniture. And there's Weed Woman, who can make weeds do her bidding. And Sinus Man, who can shoot lasers out of his nostrils."

"Ewww," groaned Muffy.

"Yeah, it's pretty gross," C.V. remarked. "My favorite is Infinity Man. He's an alien who was raised in the jungle by apes."

"That's nice," said Muffy. "You know there are no superheroes in real life, right?"

"Wrong," replied C.V. with a straight face. "Some people have special powers. Like me. Someday I'll be a superhero, and I'll use my powers for good, just like Infinity Man."

After a moment of astonished rumination, Muffy stepped out of C.V.'s room and closed the door. The Oberlins were still in the state in which she had found them. Retaking her seat on the couch, she watched a few seconds of the football game and then announced, "Your son is crazy."

C.V.'s parents gazed at her with expressions of mild interest.

"What makes you say that?" asked Mrs. Oberlin, lowering her news magazine.

"He thinks he has super powers," Muffy answered.

"Well, maybe he does," said the owl woman calmly. "One can never know about these things."

"But that's ridiculous!" Muffy retorted. "People only get super powers in comic books. You shouldn't encourage him to believe that rubbish."

"It's none of your business how we raise our own child," Mr. Oberlin snapped at her.

A deathly silence fell over the room, broken only by the sportcaster's excited ramblings.

C.V. burst through the door of his room, clutching a few comic books in his hand. "Do you want to borrow some Dragon Goddess issues?" he asked Muffy.

"Uh, no thanks," the girl responded, pushing herself off the couch. "I was just leaving."

"I'll call your friend," Mrs. Oberlin promised.

Muffy walked out of the house without a word, leaving C.V. dumbfounded.


	11. Grandpa Dave Moves In

Shortly before dinner was to start, Arthur and D.W. wandered into the living room to find Grandma Thora seated on the couch, busily knitting a shawl out of pink yarn. The old aardvark woman adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses, sized up the two kids, and smiled. "My, my, how you kids have grown," she remarked sweetly.

Glancing about warily, D.W. tiptoed up to Grandma Thora and whispered in her ear, "It's something they put in the vegetables."

Seconds later the front door swung open, and Grandpa Dave started to shuffle through the doorway, supporting himself with a metal walker. The man looked more wrinkled and weary than Arthur had ever seen him, and had lost about half of his hair from the last time. He was not aging gracefully.

"Grandpa Dave! Grandpa Dave!" cheered D.W., rushing toward the visitor with her arms wide. Too tall to navigate under the walker, she leaped around it and warmly embraced the old man's leg.

"Whoop-dee-doo," muttered Arthur as he approached his grandfather to offer up an obligatory greeting. While Grandma Thora always had a fun activity prepared for her visits, Grandpa Dave could never be bothered with anything but sleep, checkers, sleep, stories of fabulous buried treasures, and more sleep.

Mr. Read trailed his father into the house, carrying an object that appeared to Arthur as a very unwelcome omen. A large suitcase.

Grandpa Dave spoke in a weak, husky, but friendly voice. "Hello there, D.W.," he said, rubbing his granddaughter's long, wavy hair. When he raised his eyes to look at Arthur he seemed to become disoriented, as if he were looking at three or four Arthurs instead of one. "And...and you must be D.W.," he added, pushing himself into a standing position.

"That's D.W.," said Arthur, pointing at his sister. "I'm Arthur."

"Oh, of course." Grandpa Dave chuckled. "What does D.W. stand for?"

It didn't take Arthur long to realize that his grandfather wasn't "all there". Mr. Read eventually hauled in three suitcases from the car, and laid them in the guest bedroom. Arthur was afraid to ask, and didn't need to--obviously Grandpa Dave was settling in for an extended stay.

Soon all the Reads, as well as Grandma Thora, were gathered around the feeble man as he rested on the couch and breathed heavily. Apparently tired out from his journey, he could only manage a few short sentences, such as "I'm grateful to all of you" and "I hope you have plenty of diapers."

As was her wont, D.W. climbed into her grandfather's lap and wrapped her arms around his flabby neck. "Oh, you're a heavy little girl," he remarked. "How old are you now?"

"I'm almost six," D.W. replied with glee. "I go to Arthur's school now."

"Six years old," mused Grandpa Dave. "I started school when I was six years old. I had to walk two miles each way with my big sister. We didn't have modern conveniences like cell phones and GPS units."

"Francine's mom is my teacher," D.W. went on. "And Nadine's in my class, and Emily, and Tommy, and Timmy, and James..."

"It's good you have so many friends," said the old man. "How old are you now?"

"You asked me that already," D.W. pointed out.

Befuddled by Grandpa Dave's absent-mindedness, Arthur strolled into the kitchen, where his mother and Grandma Thora had gone to chat quietly. "What is it?" asked Mrs. Read when she saw the boy.

Arthur's pupils darted back and forth, as if he felt ashamed for asking a question about something that was most likely none of his business.

"What's wrong with him, Mom?" he finally inquired. "He looks so tired. I mean, even more tired than usual. And he forgets stuff. He called me D.W."

Their expressions solemn, Grandma Thora and Mrs. Read seated themselves at the table, and Arthur followed suit.

"Your grandpa has a disease," said Mrs. Read slowly. "It's called Alzheimer's disease. There's no known cure."

Her statement only confused Arthur further. "How long is he going to stay here?" he asked.

"Probably until he dies," his mother answered.

Grim scenarios flooded Arthur's mind. Walking down the stairway one morning to find Grandpa Dave lying face-down on the carpet, dead...the family gathered around him, weeping...Pal howling with grief...

"How long will that take?" he asked nervously. Recognizing his poor choice of words, he added, "I mean, when will it happen?"

"I don't know," replied Mrs. Read. "Weeks, months, maybe years."

"Why does he have to stay here?" Arthur wondered.

"Because he can no longer take care of himself," his mother explained. "Alzheimer's disease is a degenerative condition of the brain. It makes you forget things."

By now Arthur had become extremely worried. "Is it contagious?"

Before Mrs. Read could answer, Arthur's imagination dissolved into a fantasy sequence...

He found himself in a Lakewood classroom, with Mrs. Frensky at the front of the room, drawing letters and pictures on the blackboard. Glancing around, he saw not only his sister D.W., but her first-grade classmates, including Vicita, James, and the Tibbles. Shaking his head with disbelief, he blurted out, "What am I doing in first grade?"

Mrs. Frensky lowered her chalk and smiled patronizingly. "Don't you remember? You forgot everything you learned in elementary school, so you have to start over."

"But I'm too old for first grade," insisted Arthur, his consternation growing. "I'm...uh...D.W., how old am I?"

"Ninety-nine million," replied his smirking sister.

"Yeah, what she said," Arthur told Mrs. Frensky. "I'm way too old for first grade."

"In that case," said the teacher, "you should have no trouble spelling the word 'cat'."

"Um...uh..."

Arthur didn't understand how such a simple word could stump him. Had he fallen and hit his head? He knew it started with a K...or maybe an S...

Finally the answer dawned on him.

"Goo goo dah dah boo boo," he cooed in a babylike voice.

Mrs. Frensky groaned. "Oh...he's getting worse."

Vicita sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"

The fantasy sequence ended as Mrs. Read started to reply to Arthur's question. "No, it's not..."

"C-A-T!" cried Arthur in a panic. His mother and grandmother were taken aback at his outburst. "One times seven is seven," he muttered feverishly. "Two times seven is fourteen. The capital of Missouri is Jefferson City."

"Are you all right, Arthur?" asked Grandma Thora.

"You don't have to worry about getting Alzheimer's disease," Mrs. Read informed him. "Only old people get it."

Arthur heaved a sigh of relief.


	12. The Lost Years

While Arthur puzzled over his grandfather's forgetfulness, Binky was strolling down the sidewalk toward Molly's house, with a reluctant George in tow.

"The last time Molly and I spoke, she threatened to rip out my antlers and use them as drumsticks on my head," said the moose boy nervously.

"She's cooled off since then," Binky reassured him. "You have nothing to worry about."

The normally unkempt yard in front of theMcDonald house had been cleared of junk and neatly mowed, and a broken window had been patched up. It was almost enough to convince Binky that a new family had moved in.

Mrs. McDonald, who had also spruced up her appearance, welcomed them inside. The house was cleaner and better organized than when Binky had seen it last. George waved his head around, gaping at the paintings of mountains and rivers on the walls, and wondering how soon he would be clobbered.

Molly confronted the two boys as they stepped into the living room. George had never seen her with exposed eyes before--they made her look more like a human (rabbit) girl, as opposed to an unstoppable bullying machine. "Hi, Binky," she said flatly. "Hi, George." She wasn't smiling, but on the positive side, she wasn't scowling menacingly either. She still wore the red dress and white pumps that she had sported at church.

As she led them to the couch, George let his curious mouth get the best of him. "Aren't you gonna beat me up?" he asked innocently.

"No," Molly replied as she flipped up her skirt and seated herself. "I don't do that anymore."

George's tone became hopeful. "Does...does that mean we can be friends?"

"Sure, whatever," said the rabbit girl flippantly.

Mrs.McDonald took a seat opposite the kids, and then several men filed into the room--Ben McDonald, Jack Barnes (Binky's father), and Reverend Mark Fulsome. The camaraderie among them was warm, and the subject of conversation turned to the subject of future hopes.

"Now that I've found the true way, I'll never depart from it," said Mr.McDonald with an air of triumph. "I didn't value my family before, but now I see they're the only thing in the world that matters."

Mrs.McDonald brought out a few plates of finger food, which proved tasty, but other than that the kids found the chatter to be trite and boring. It consisted primarily of Mr.McDonald proclaiming his resolve to make something of his family, and Binky's father and the reverend giving him words of encouragement.

Then a knock came at the door. Mrs.McDonald opened it, and a short but swarthy-looking cat man boldly stepped inside. His black hair was tied in a short ponytail in the back, his face was adorned with a goatee, and he wore a fine gray flannel suit. The color seemed to drain from the faces of Molly and her parents when they laid eyes on him.

Mr.McDonald rose cautiously to his feet. It seemed to Binky and George that he was fighting back a titanic disgust for the visitor. "Outside," he said calmly but authoritatively.

"Very well," responded the cat man in a gravelly voice.

All eyes watched curiously as Mr.McDonald and the unexpected guest exited the house.

Once he had closed the door, Mr.McDonald led the man around the house to the back yard. Concealed behind the wall, they spoke in hushed but urgent tones.

"I won't have you in the same room as my wife and daughter," said Mr.McDonald indignantly. "You and your way of life are an abomination to me now."

The black-haired man glared at him with piercing eyes. "You're throwing away a great opportunity," he insisted. "You have potential. You can go a long way. I urge you to reconsider."

"Not only will I not reconsider," Mr.McDonald replied angrily, "but I'll oppose you any way I can."

Inside the house, Binky and George followed the still-pale Molly to a corner of the room while Mrs. McDonald, Mr. Barnes, and the reverend talked among themselves.

"His name's Ray Mansch," Molly told the boys. "Four years ago, before my dad went to jail, he came to our place all the time. I'm pretty sure they were partners in the heist, but my dad wouldn't implicate him."

"What's implicate?" asked Binky.

"My dad had a partner when he stole the jewels," Molly continued. "He was caught, but his partner got away. He wouldn't say who the partner was, but I just know it was Mansch."

"What does he want now?" George wondered.

"I don't know." Molly's face darkened. "Maybe he wants Dad to do another job."

George and Binky witnessed in amazement as the rabbit girl's eyes turned misty.

"I hope he doesn't," she said morosely. "If Dad turns back to crime, I'll never have a good life. I'd rather have him bossing me around, and making me go to church, and telling me what to wear."

----

Arthur set his alarm clock to go off early the next morning, as he had special plans.

The first rays of the sun had just squeezed through the blinds in D.W.'s room when the sleeping girl heard a voice call to her. "Dooorrraaa..."

Dragging open her eyelids, she beheld the familiar sight of Arthur's face in the dim light. Her older brother was dressed for school, but for some reason had neglected to put on his glasses.

"Wake up, Dora," he called softly.

"Ugh...ergh..." D.W. pushed herself up and hopped out of the bed while Arthur reached over and flipped on the light.

"Why aren't you wearing your glasses?" D.W. asked as she straightened her pajama top.

"I got cataract surgery a year ago," Arthur explained. "I don't need glasses anymore."

D.W. became confused. "Huh?"

"Oh, I forgot," said Arthur, smirking. "The disease."

"What disease?"

Arthur knelt down and looked D.W. straight in the eyes. "How old are you?" he inquired.

"Five," his sister answered. "Almost six."

"Wrong," said Arthur firmly. "You're seven. Almost eight."

D.W. turned around and compared her height to that of her mattress. "But I'm too small to be seven," she said matter-of-factly.

"No, you're not. All seven-year-olds are the same size as you."

D.W. shook her head incredulously. "You're being silly, Arthur."

"And all twelve-year-olds are the same size as me," said Arthur, straightening his legs. "You caught Alzheimer's disease from Grandpa Dave. It made you forget everything for the past two years. You're in third grade, and I'm in seventh grade. Mr. Ratburn is your teacher."

Fear seized upon D.W.'s impressionable mind. "B-but I can't go to th-third grade," she sputtered. "I don't know how to read yet."

"Then I'll teach you before we go to school." He gestured toward the opened door. "Come on, Dora."

"Don't call me Dora," D.W. complained.

"But that's your name," said Arthur. "We all stopped calling you D.W. when you were six."

"Oh, man," groaned D.W. as she followed Arthur along the hallway and into his bedroom.

To her surprise, a girl in a blue dress and hair bow was standing in the middle of the room, whistling carelessly. "Fern?" gasped D.W. "What are you..."

The poodle girl leaned over and kissed Arthur on the cheek. "Good morning, dear," she said sweetly.

Arthur grinned at the sight of D.W.'s blank, confused stare. "Fern and I are married now," he explained.

"M-m-married?" his sister stammered.

Arthur waved his hand in the direction of the closet. D.W. turned her head and cried out in shock when she saw a row of blue dresses hanging next to Arthur's sweaters and shirts.

Fern placed her arm around Arthur's shoulders. "I love Arthur so much," she said dreamily. "It was hard for me to wait until I was twelve, but I did."

Dumbfounded, D.W. clutched her ears and waved her head to and fro, muttering, "Omigoshomigoshomigosh..."

"Fern and I will teach you to read so you'll be ready for Mr. Ratburn's class," Arthur said to her. "He's really tough."

"But...there isn't time," D.W. protested. "Learning to read takes a hundred years."

Fern looked over at Arthur. "She's got a point there."

Arthur nodded. "Don't worry, Dora. If there's not enough time before school, we'll keep teaching you during the class breaks, and recess, and lunch hour."

As D.W. pondered the Herculean task of relearning two years of school in one morning, a thought occurred to her. "Hey, wait a minute," she blurted out, folding her arms. "You two are seventh graders now, right?"

"Yeah," replied Fern.

"Then you should go to the middle school."

Arthur reached up to fidget with his glasses, but remembered he hadn't put them on. "Uh, they put the elementary school and the middle school together," was his lame explanation.

D.W. pointed. "And aren't those your glasses on the nightstand?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder. There, indeed, were his spectacles, sitting where he had left them.

He grinned sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. I keep those around to remind me of how fortunate I am to not have to wear them anymore. Yeah, that's it."

Arthur and Fern watched anxiously as D.W.'s once-panicked expression transformed into a blood-boiling scowl.

They were rescued from her wrath when Mrs. Read pushed the door open wider. She wore a nightgown and clutched a steaming coffee mug in one hand. "Ready for breakfast, kids?" she summoned them.

"Yes, Mrs. Read," Fern answered.

"I sure am hungry," Arthur added.

As D.W. followed the pair toward the kitchen, she grumbled softly enough that only they two could hear, "Enjoy your last meal."


	13. Old Rabbits Die Hard

D.W. spent the rest of the morning issuing dire threats against Arthur and Fern for the prank they had played on her. After Fern had left to return her dresses to her house, the feuding siblings made their way to school, where they met with several of their friends in front of the entrance.

"How are you liking fifth grade so far?" Prunella asked Arthur and Buster.

"It's not very hard," Arthur answered.

"But listening to Mrs. Krantz is like going to the dentist and getting all your teeth drilled at once," Buster added.

Prunella winced. "Tell me about it."

As they conversed, a strange sight greeted their eyes. Molly had arrived, her hair neatly bobbed, her face washed, the same red dress adorning her frame. She stopped for a moment in front of the group, as if testing their reactions.

Prunella rubbed her eyes, thinking she was witnessing an illusion. "No, it can't be," she marveled. "MollyMcDonald in a dress?"

"I believe in aliens again," said the astonished Buster.

He and Prunella started to snicker uncontrollably. Molly merely scowled and walked past them. Once he had regained his composure, Buster said to Prunella, "I'm surprised she didn't rip off my ears."

Molly encountered the same sort of treatment everywhere she went in the school. "Move over, Miss America," joked Francine. "I was starting to wonder if you had eyes," Alan ribbed her. "It's a slight improvement," Mickie Chanel opinionated, "but you have a long way to go before you can think about making your societal debut."

As for Muffy, she could only giggle hysterically, punctuating her laughter with an occasional "Oh, puh-leeze!" It was all she could do to restrain herself from rudely pointing.

Then a shadow fell over her, and her mirth disappeared. The sight of two clenched fists and a menacing face blocked everything else from her mind. It was Rattles. There was no escape.

"I'm gonna stuff your braids right up your nose," the large boy threatened.

While Muffy choked and sputtered, Molly held Rattles back with a hand on his shoulder. "Leave her alone," she said firmly. "I don't want anyone getting hurt on my account."

Her words startled and disturbed Rattles. "What's happened to you, man?"

"My life will be different from now on," said Molly calmly. "I have to get used to it."

Muffy saw an opportunity to slip away unharmed. "She laughed at you," Rattles pointed out to Molly. "She made fun of your dorky dress. You should beat her up."

"I'd like to, believe me," Molly admitted with a sigh. "But if my dad hears I've been making trouble at school, he'll kill me. If I'm lucky, he'll only kill me figuratively."

"Have it your way, man." Rattles shrugged and hurried away.

Things didn't get easier. When morning recess came, Molly found a relatively isolated corner of the school and leaned against a column. Beat Simon, noticing the girl's glum face and drooped ears, stopped and gazed at her while walking by.

Intrigued by the shape of the rabbit-aardvark girl's body, Molly stood and sized her up. "You're almost as tall as I am," she remarked. "Do British kids grow faster than American kids?"

"On average, no," replied Beat. "I couldn't help but notice the other children laughing at you. They laugh at me, too, but not as much as they did last week. The novelty is wearing off for them. But not for me, unfortunately." She sighed plaintively. "Not for me."

A brief, thoughtful silence fell over the two girls.

"I hate dresses," Molly spoke up. "My dad thinks just because I'm a girl, I should wear a dress. Like it's some kind of crime against nature for a girl to look like a boy."

"I think you look pretty with the dress, and the haircut, and the eyes," said Beat flatteringly. "Maybe that's not what you want to hear, but it's my opinion."

Molly didn't respond, but it appeared to Beat that she was trying not to roll her eyes.

"You've got it easy," Beat reflected. "You can change out of your clothes if you don't like them. I can't change out of my...well, you know."

Molly's eyes brightened a bit, and she smiled and nodded. "You're an okay kid."

When lunch hour came along, Beat invited Molly to join her at the girls' table. Francine, Sue Ellen, Fern, and Muffy were present, and the conversation became animated.

"I'll tell you why you shouldn't look like a boy," Francine said to Molly. "Because boys are jerks."

"There are a few nice ones," Muffy rejoined. "That's why a girl should always look her best--she never knows when she'll catch the eye of one of the few nice boys in the world."

"Like that beaky kid who rides around in a wheelchair," Fern added.

"How does it feel to have your dad back, Molly?" asked Beat between bites of tuna casserole.

"It's better than not having him back," replied the rabbit girl. "But he's super strict all the time."

"At least you have a father," Sue Ellen said somberly. "I don't know where my parents are."

A moment of sympathic silence followed, which Beat broke. "To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune," she recited. "To lose both looks like carelessness. Oscar Wilde."

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Muffy.

"I was only trying to lighten the mood," Beat answered.

She next saw Molly at the beginning of afternoon recess. The girl, seated on a bench with a math textbook opened in her lap, appeared sadder than ever. "Why the long face?" Beat inquired.

Molly held up a sheet of paper with a large red letter drawn at the top. "I got a D on my math test," she lamented. "My dad won't be happy about this."

Beat gently plucked the paper from Molly's fingers and pored over it. "Sixth grade maths," she mused. "It doesn't look very formidable."

"For a brainiac like you, maybe," snapped Molly.

Beat took the rabbit girl's outburst in stride. Handing the test back, she said, "Now that you've improved upon your outward appearance, it's time to start working on your mind." Drawing a small card from her pocket, she laid it in Molly's palm. "This is my cell phone number. If you need help with maths, call me."

As the British girl strolled away, Molly marveled at her offer of assistance. The two had enjoyed a brief acquaintance during the time of the cleansing, but other than that they hadn't been close at all. Could it be that her new image was attracting positive attention as well as negative?

Binky intercepted Beat when she arrived at the playground. "Hi, Beat."

"Hello, Binky."

The bulldog boy seemed worried about something. "I noticed you've spent a lot of time with Molly today."

"Indeed I have." Beat motioned for Binky to lean with her against the bars of the jungle gym.

Binky gazed into the empty air as he spoke. "She sure looks different now. It's like she's turned into someone else."

"On the outside, perhaps," said Beat. "But old rabbits...er, habits die hard."

"I always thought Molly was just one of the guys," Binky went on. "Yeah, I knew she was a girl and all, but it wasn't something we talked about. But seeing her like this..."

His voice trailed off. Beat perked up her ears curiously.

"I don't know how to describe it," Binky continued. "It's like she's saying to me, 'Hey, doofus! In case you haven't noticed, I'm a girl!'"

Unable to think of a helpful response, Beat held her peace.

"It's weird," said Binky, shaking his head. "But I kinda like her this way."


	14. Titanic Bunny

Mrs. Read was performing her accounting duties on the computer when she heard the front door fly open. The sounds of Arthur and D.W. dropping their lunchboxes on the table and talking excitedly serenaded her ears. Leaving Kate with her Magic Toolbox toys, she ambled through the living room to greet them.

Along the way she spotted something that was out of order. Grandpa Dave was seated on the couch watching a TV documentary, and Pal was curled up peacefully in his lap. Bending over, Mrs. Read swatted the dog's hind quarters, causing him to bound onto the floor. "No dogs allowed on the couch," she reminded Grandpa Dave.

When she arrived in the kitchen, D.W. showed her a sheet of paper with letters and lines printed on it. "Look, Mom," the girl trumpeted. "My very first homework."

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs. Read. "You can finish it after I take you to get your haircut."

Terror gripped D.W.'s heart. "I don't want to get a haircut!" she protested.

"You're getting a haircut." Mrs. Read ran her fingers over D.W.'s straggly hair, which reached down to her shoulder blades. "If your hair gets any longer it'll turn into a jungle, with lions, and tigers, and pythons."

"I don't want a haircut!" D.W. insisted vehemently. In the living room, Grandpa Dave slowly leaned over, grabbed the eager Pal, and lifted the pooch onto his lap.

"It doesn't hurt to get your hair cut," Mrs. Read reminded her daughter. "Remember the last time you got your hair cut?"

"No," said D.W.

"That's because you've got Alzheimer's disease," Arthur ribbed her.

"Quiet, Arthur," scolded his mother. "You shouldn't joke about that."

"I don't want to get a haircut ever again," D.W. groused. "I don't care if my hair grows all the way to my toes and birds build nests in it."

"You'll get ice cream," her mother offered.

D.W. grinned. "Okay."

Mrs. Read headed through the living room again, stopping to scoot Pal out of Grandpa Dave's lap and remind the old man once again, "No dogs on the couch." A moment later she returned, leading Kate by the hand.

"Arthur, I'm taking the girls to the barbershop and the ice cream shop," she informed her son. "I need you to take care of Grandpa Dave while we're gone. Make sure Pal stays off the couch, and don't leave the house unattended."

"Okay, Mom," said Arthur dutifully but reluctantly.

As Mrs. Read led D.W. and Kate out of the house, Arthur overheard D.W. saying, "I wish my hair grew faster, so I could get a haircut and ice cream every day."

Shuffling into the living room, Arthur wondered why his mother had never offered him ice cream in exchange for getting his hair cut. Was it due to the fact that he hardly had any hair?

Grandpa Dave was still there, watching what appeared to be a program about the wildlife of the Arctic tundra. Pal had learned his lesson and was curled up by the foot of the couch. Arthur had to squeeze around the old man's walker, which took up quite a bit of floor space.

"Hello there, D.W.," said Grandpa Dave as Arthur occupied the space next to him.

"I'm Arthur," the boy pointed out. "D.W. is a girl. That's how you know."

On the TV screen, several caribou sped past the camera. Arthur searched around for the remote and found it on the lampstand. "What are you watching?" he asked his grandfather.

"I don't know," was Grandpa Dave's semi-oblivious reply.

Not bothering to ask permission, Arthur flipped through the channels until the vibrantly colored image of Bionic Bunny appeared.

Grandpa Dave nodded and smiled. "Titanic Bunny," he mused.

"No," Arthur corrected him. "It's Bionic Bunny."

"When I was a child, he was called Titanic Bunny," the old man recounted. "He could rip tanks apart with his bare hands. He caused the Nazis so much trouble, they created their own super soldier to fight him. He was called Eisenhase. That means Iron Rabbit."

"I've seen some of those old comic books," Arthur recalled. "Why did Titanic Bunny have to fight the Germans? I mean, we won the war, right?"

"Those old books were published before the end of the war," Grandpa Dave explained. "They were for morale building. Titanic Bunny symbolized truth, and justice, and freedom--the things Hitler wanted to destroy, but couldn't."

"Did you fight in the war?" Arthur asked him.

"I was too young," the old man replied, shaking his head. "I was your age during the war. My father fought the Germans in France."

A knock at the door was heard. Pal bolted from his spot on the floor and raced Arthur, easily winning. The visitors were Buster and Alan, both of whom were wearing bicycle helmets.

"Hey, Arthur, can you come out and go biking with us?" asked Buster.

"No, I can't," said Arthur ruefully. "I have to take care of my grandpa."

"Have fun at it," said Alan. The two boys turned and hopped onto their bikes, riding away into the sunset.

Arthur's heart sank as he closed the door. In his enfeebled, dependent state, Grandpa Dave seemed like a second baby in the house, one too heavy and slow to be taken anywhere. Would his presence leave Arthur with less and less time for his friends?

----

Beat appeared to be growing at a rate of about half an inch per week, and her clothes were becoming increasingly confining. To remedy the problem, her mother whisked her to the mall for a clothes shopping trip. Ever willing to impart of her fashion wisdom to those in need, Muffy came along as well.

They strolled past one clothing store after another, searching for premium bargains. Muffy had always been a short girl, but Beat made her feel even shorter, towering alongside her with a height advantage of almost five inches (not counting ears). She was tempted to wander into one of the footwear stores and buy a pair of high-heeled shoes.

"I saw you talking to Molly today," she said to Beat. "Isn't that crazy? I never thought I'd see her in a dress."

"It's the only dress she has," Beat responded. "I invited her to come shopping with me, but she said she can't afford anything."

"So she'll probably wear that dress until it's full of holes," Muffy predicted.

"Look, Mum," said Beat, gesturing toward a display in a bookstore window. "It's another Henry Skreever knockoff."

Mrs. Simon stopped to briefly examine the book, which was entitled, CHARLIE CLONE AND THE ORDER OF THE SPHINX. As she scowled with displeasure, a young horse woman with a clerk's nametag approached her. "It may look like a copy of Henry Skreever," she commented, "but there are some very important differences. For one thing, Charlie Clone is actually a girl who disguises herself as a boy so she can go to a magic school for boys. Also they play a game called cribbitch, where they fly around on magic carpets."

"Hardly original," Mrs. Simon snorted. "I'll take one."

"Wait a minute," said the clerk, her face lighting up. "I know who you are."

"You should," replied Mrs. Simon, smiling pleasantly. "I've done so many book signings here."

Muffy was distracted from the exchange between the two women when her cell phone rang. Answering it, she heard the welcome voice of Angela Ratburn.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings yesterday," said Angela earnestly. "I really do care about you. I wish I could have a little girl of my own just like you. But things are so desperate now, I find myself having to part with my own flesh and blood. Please try to understand, Muffy."

"It's so sad," Muffy lamented. "I wish I could help. I wish someone could help. It's not right that you should have to give up your baby."

"I also wanted to thank you," Angela continued.

"For what?"

"For referring a very nice family to me. I just came back from showing them the baby. The father's a little rough around the edges, but he can't help it because of what he suffers from. The mother can't have more children of her own. And the boy is such a darling."

"Hold on a minute, Angela," said Muffy with confusion in her voice. "Who are you talking about? Who are these people?"

"The Oberlins," Angela answered. "Boyd and Cathy, and their little boy, Charles Vincent."

Startled, Muffy nearly dropped her phone.

"Muffy? Hello?"

"I...I don't get it," the monkey girl stammered. "I gave C.V.'s parents your number because I thought they'd help you to keep the baby, by giving you a job or something. But now you're telling me...they want to_adopt_ Graham?"

"Yes, Muffy. And they seem like wonderful people."

Beat and her mother watched impatiently and curiously as Muffy's face turned red with outrage.

"How could they lie to me like that?" she bellowed into the phone. "They pumped me up with false hopes, but what they really wanted was to take Graham away from you! Don't let them take him, Angela. C.V. is a total nutcase. He thinks he has super powers. I'm seriously afraid he'll jump off a building and try to fly, and kill himself. With an older brother like him, Graham will be warped for life!"

There was a pause on the line. "I don't think he's as bad as you say," came Angela's voice. "He just has an active imagination."

"I won't let you do it," said Muffy urgently. "If you have to give Graham up, there are better families out there."

"The decision is mine to make, Muffy." Angela's voice sounded weary. "I'll talk to you later."

----

For all intents and purposes, Molly's head had become a math book with long ears. She studied and pondered obsessively, not budging from her spot on the couch, struggling to grasp the abstract concepts the tome presented to her.

When a knock came at the door, she wasn't the one to answer it.

"Hi, Mr. McDonald," said Binky to the neatly dressed, clean-shaven rabbit man who stood before him. "Can I talk to Molly?"

"Make it quick," replied the man, stepping to one side.

Binky found his friend and one-time fellow bully in the living room. "Hi, Binky," she greeted him, raising one corner of her mouth. She slowly rested the textbook on her lap while Binky spoke.

"I thought you might like to, uh, maybe go to Muffin Man with me and get some pastries," the boy suggested nervously.

"That sounds like fun," was Molly's reply. "But my dad won't let me. After he saw my grade, he sentenced me to study math for the rest of the evening."

"Man, that's rough," said Binky, seating himself in an easy chair across from the girl.

Mr.McDonald scowled at him, apparently fearing that he intended to stay a while. "My daughter is busy right now," he made clear.

Seeing he had worn out his short welcome, Binky rose and waved wordlessly at Molly. "Some other time, maybe," said the rabbit girl eagerly.

As her friend departed from the house, Molly felt a twinge of disappointment. "What a doofus," she remarked. "We've known each other for years, but he never thought to ask me out until he saw me in a dress."

"He seems like a good boy," said her father, folding his arms. "I think you should give him a chance. Now, back to your schoolwork."


	15. Skeletons in the Closet

The next morning was Tuesday, and Muffy was not happy. Accosting C.V. on his way to Mr. Boughton's classroom, she treated the overweight owl boy to an angry tirade.

"I don't know how you and your parents can live with yourselves," she scolded. "You offered to help my friend Angela so she could keep her baby, but what you wanted all along was to take him for your own!"

Taken aback, C.V. fiddled nervously with his spectacles for a few seconds before responding. "But I've always wanted a little brother," he told the pint-sized fury before him. "My mom can't have babies anymore. And Graham is so adorable. He's what we've been looking for."

"I won't let you adopt him," Muffy growled. "He deserves a better family. A family without a big, fat, dorky twit who thinks he has super powers!"

Astonished at her insults, C.V. glowered and clenched his fists. "You'd better not make me angry," he cautioned. "You won't like me when I'm angry."

"I don't like you now," Muffy replied petulantly. "And I don't like your parents. And I'll do everything I can to keep Angela's baby out of their greedy hands!"

C.V. became flushed, and his voice rose in pitch. "I'm warning you, Muffy. Cross swords with me, and you'll regret it. I am Captain Valiant. FEAR MY POWER!"

That was the signal for Muffy to roll her eyes incredulously...but she couldn't. Nor could she explain why sheer terror had taken hold of her mind. It seemed as if her thoughts had rebelled against her, and convinced her that C.V. indeed had power, and was to be feared. It was ridiculous, but she was compelled to believe it. All she could do was whine pathetically and quake in her buckle shoes.

Grinning nonchalantly, C.V. stepped past her and continued on his way to the sixth-grade classroom. Muffy remained immobilized by terror for several more seconds, and then it began to subside. Before long she was left to reflect on the absurdity of her reaction. Surely the boy was no threat, despite being older and bigger. She had seen him in action on the soccer field--he could scarcely take five steps without becoming winded. No doubt the fear that had paralyzed her had been the result of some psychological trick.

----

Molly, having endured her punishment for poor math grades, was available to rendezvous with Binky at the Muffin Man coffee shop after school let out. The bulldog boy waited patiently at a table, clasping his fingers and humming a tune, until Molly appeared, still clad in her one red dress. Binky remained seated as the rabbit girl slid into the seat opposite him.

"Thank you for inviting me, Binky," she said flatly.

"You're welcome," was Binky's reply.

"I didn't say that with much feeling, did I?" Molly reflected. "I'm not used to being polite."

"It takes practice."

Molly reached up and flicked a strand of hair from her face. "I guess I'll have to learn to be polite. My dad wants me to behave like a proper young lady. And what my dad wants, he gets. That's one thing that hasn't changed about him."

Binky discovered that he could read Molly's emotions more effectively now that the mane in front of her eyes had been clipped. "You're afraid of him," he observed.

Molly sighed. "Yes, I am. I hope he's changed, but I'm not sure yet. If he has, then the worst he can do is take away my privileges. If he hasn't..."

A long silence descended upon the pair.

"Well?" Binky spoke up. "If he hasn't...then what?"

"Geez, you're slow," Molly grumbled. "Let's change the subject."

Mr. Holden, the old koala man who operated the coffee house, stepped up to their table. "What can I get for you young mates?" he asked in a rich Australian brogue.

"I'll have a cream cheese danish," said Binky.

"Same here," added Molly.

"Coming right up," said the koala man, who then disappeared behind the counter.

Binky and Molly sat motionlessly, drinking in each other's eyes, allowing the strong coffee smell to waft up their nostrils.

"I have to ask you a question," said Molly. "You never asked me out while my dad was in jail. But now that he's out--now that I have to look like a pretty girl to please him--you're suddenly interested in me."

The two kids became silent again.

"So what's the question?" asked Binky.

Molly sighed with frustration. "Hi, everybody, I'm Binky," she said in a low, mocking voice. "Duuuuuuh."

Binky could only stare blankly.

"The question is this," said Molly. "Did you ask me out just because I look prettier than before?"

It was a loaded question, and Binky had no idea how to begin unloading it. He stared at the napkin on the tabletop, wishing with all his might that a meteor would crash through the ceiling and leave a glowing crater in the floor.

"Uh...no," he finally answered.

"No?" repeated Molly. "Why no?"

"Because if I say yes, you won't like me."

It was a reply that deserved a harsh retort, but before Molly could come up with one, she beheld a disturbing sight from the corner of her eye.

"What's wrong?" asked Binky when he noticed his date's sudden paleness.

Molly lowered her voice. "It was Mansch. He just walked by. I saw him through the window."

"What's he doing here?" Binky whispered.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good."

Mr. Holden stopped by and placed danishes in front of Binky and Molly. Minutes passed as the pair enjoyed their desserts. There was no further sign of Mansch.

"It's like somebody flipped a switch in my brain," said Binky between bites of cheesy danish. "I always knew you were a girl, but I thought of you as a buddy, and not someone I'd ask for a date. But when I saw you with the dress and the haircut, I couldn't think that way anymore. You became more than just a girl to me." The boy spread out his hands. "You became a...a...a _girl_."

"That's so sweet," said Molly dreamily.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah." Molly glanced down at the half-eaten pastry in her hand. "How much sugar do they put in these things?"

----

Later in the day, Fern answered a ring of the doorbell to find Muffy standing on the Walters family's welcome mat.

"I'd like to borrow your computer skills for a little while," said Muffy as she wiped her feet and strolled into the house.

"Okay," replied Fern, pulling up a desk chair for her guest. "I was just wasting time in front of the TV."

The two girls placed themselves in front of the monitor, and Fern brought up a search engine window. "What are we looking for?"

"Dirt," answered Muffy. "I want to get the dirt on someone."

"Don't say dirt," Fern urged her. "That makes it sound bad."

"Okay." Muffy thought for a moment. "How about skeletons in the closet?"

"That's better."

"Search for the names Boyd and Cathy Oberlin," Muffy instructed Fern. "They're the parents of that dorky kid who thinks he's a superhero."

"You mean C.V." Fern smiled. "He's not so bad."

"We'll see."

They browsed for about ten minutes, and then Fern followed a link to the web page of the San Diego Fire Department.

"Says here Boyd Oberlin was a fireman in San Diego," Fern noted. "Some sort of accident happened, and he was placed on disability leave."

"Mrs. Oberlin said a tank of chemicals blew up in his face while he was fighting a fire," Muffy recounted.

"That's not what it says here. It says the accident happened at his house."

Her interest piqued, Muffy looked over the report on the web page. "Causes unknown? Hmm..."

"He was taken to a local hospital in a catatonic state," Fern read from the screen.

"Weird," mused Muffy. "So either the accident didn't happen like Mrs. Oberlin described it, or it was covered up for some reason."


	16. First Kiss

Every day for the next three days, Binky and Molly met at the Muffin Man for after-school danishes. As might be expected, their conversations didn't go anywhere, but Molly tried her best to be patient with Binky's thickness. Meanwhile, Muffy fought earnestly but vainly to dissuade Angela from allowing baby Graham to be adopted, or at least from doing further business with the Oberlins.

As Friday afternoon arrived, Binky dropped in at Molly's house to bid farewell to her father, who was leaving town for a job interview in another city. His wife and daughter blessed him with their best wishes as he stood by the door, suitcase in hand.

"I hope you get it, Dad," said Molly. "We could really use a break like this."

"Good luck, dear," said Mrs. McDonald, planting a kiss on her husband's cheek.

"One last thing before I leave," Mr.McDonald advised them. "I have reason to believe Mansch is in the neighborhood. Watch out for him. Don't let him in the house, whatever you do."

"We'll be careful," Mrs.McDonald promised.

A moment later BenMcDonald was on his way. Binky and Molly were left to idle away the time in the living room, while Mrs.McDonald puttered about in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"It's funny," Binky mused. "Your dad interviewing with a company that makes security systems."

"He knows a thing or two about security," Molly pointed out. "He's like Frank Abagnale. He's more valuable thinking of ways to thwart other crooks, than rotting behind bars."

While they sat together on the couch, Binky raised his arm and moved it behind Molly's shoulders. The rabbit girl, surprised at the apparently romantic gesture, wondered what Binky was planning.

She found out quickly enough. "Ah, there's the remote," said Binky, pulling his arm away from Molly and aiming it at the TV.

He mindlessly flipped channels for a few seconds, and then Molly suggested, "Let's not watch TV."

"Okay," Binky responded, switching off the set. "I'll go rent a movie."

"Let's not do that either," Molly recommended. "Let's just talk."

"Okay." Binky cleared his throat. "I was watching wrestling yesterday, and Slam Wilson has this cool new move called the..."

"Binky..."

Noticing the urgency in the girl's tone, Binky fell silent.

"This has been a weird week for me," Molly related. "Having to wear a dress everywhere, having to study harder, having to be nice to people instead of threatening to beat them up. I should be upset about it all, but I'm not. In fact, I feel better about myself."

"Really?" Binky grinned vapidly. "Cool."

"I feel like there's hope for the future," Molly went on. "I feel like I can get along with people, and get better grades, and be a better person."

Binky only listened, not wanting to interrupt an epiphany with a potentially stupid remark.

"I never thought much about my life," said Molly wistfully. "I always figured I'd be dead by age sixteen. But now that Dad's back--now that I have to clean up my act--I'm starting to realize that I may have a life ahead of me, like everybody else."

Noticing Binky's quietness, Molly began to suspect that he wasn't paying attention.

"Keep going," the boy said.

"I...feel different inside," Molly admitted. "I feel like there's something special about me. My mom says it's because I'm a girl. I never thought there was anything special about being a girl. I thought the difference between a boy and a girl was unimportant, like the difference between a rabbit person and an aardvark person. But now that I've spent a week dressing like a girl, and hanging out with the girls at school, I'm starting to understand that being a girl is a wonderful thing."

"Yeah, it is," said Binky thoughtfully. "I mean, if you're a girl."

"There are so many things a girl can do that a boy can't," said Molly. "Like this."

To Binky's amazement, Molly gradually leaned over and pressed her lips against his cheek.

It lasted only a second. She pulled away from the boy, blushing as if ashamed of what she had done.

Binky rubbed the moist spot on his cheek in wonder. "Omigosh, Molly," he marveled. "You just kissed me."

Molly, her heart pounding wildly, could only shake her head and stutter. "I'm...I'm..."

"Don't be embarrassed," said Binky reassuringly.

"I'm sorry," Molly choked out. "I didn't know what kissing a boy would feel like. It's really weird."

"You can kiss me again if you want," Binky offered.

At first Molly widened her eyes, as if thrilled by the prospect--but then she turned her face away from Binky.

"I need more time," she said, staring down at her knees.

----

Molly lay awake in her bed for hours, dwelling on the bizarre sensation she had experienced earlier in the day. She couldn't help but want to feel it again, yet it frightened her. One brief kiss had shown her how meaningless her life had been to that point. As a Tough Customer, she was feared by all and needed no one. But now she desired with all her heart to fling herself into Binky's arms, to embrace him, kiss him, become one with him. To deny everything she had known before...

She groaned and rolled over. _This is getting really cheesy_, she thought. _I need to get some sleep._

She laid still for a few more minutes. Not a hint of drowsiness.

Her sensitive rabbit ears detected a faint creaking noise.

The sound faded out as quickly as it had begun, but Molly became convinced that someone was walking about in the house. The only other person in the dwelling was her mother, who wasn't known for creeping out of bed during the wee hours of the morning. Too tired to consider the possibilities, she told herself it was the wind, and dozed off.

----

It was Saturday morning, but Molly could think of nothing but stealing a few more hours of quality mattress time. Even her guilty fantasies about Binky didn't interest her as much as good old sleep. The stack of syrup-drenched pancakes on the plate in front of her disappeared slowly as she picked at it.

Her mother answered a knock at the door, and in a moment Binky was standing at the other end of the breakfast table.

"Hey, Molly," he greeted her. "Check this out."

He dropped a sheet of newspaper in front of the girl. Lazily scanning it with her weary eyes, she made out the headline, DIAMONDS STOLEN FROM MUSEUM.

"It sounds like something your dad might have done before he went straight," remarked Binky as he pulled out a chair for himself.

"Three diamond necklaces from the private collection of billionaire Tristan Tucker were stolen Friday night from an exhibition at the Katzenellenbogan Museum of Natural History," Molly muttered. She casually stuffed a pancake segment into her mouth. "Well, it wasn't my dad. He's out of town. Maybe Mansch did it."

"You think?"

"He's a master thief," said Molly. "The police know it, but they don't have enough evidence to build a case against him."

While Binky's attention was drawn to a small article about a local beekeeper, Molly thought back to her hours of sleeplessness and the creaking sound that had reached her ears. "No, don't even think that," she sternly told herself.

"Whoa," Binky marveled. "I didn't know bees made honey in a solid form."

Then another thought struck Molly--the improbability that a security company would invite her father to an interview so soon after his parole.

Her suspicions became more and more unsettling. She had to look...if only to set her mind at ease...

"Excuse me a minute," she said quietly, rising from the table. Noticing the girl's troubled demeanor, Binky stood up and followed her.

Molly led him to the back of the house, into a dingy room containing old power tools, car parts, and other bits of junk. Examining the floor, she remarked, "It looks like someone swept up all the dust."

"Maybe it was your mom," Binky theorized.

Molly bent down and pushed aside the knick-knacks littering a certain spot by the wall. Her voice quivering with anxiety, she said, "My dad has a secret compartment. Before he went to jail, he always said he would kill us if we looked inside."

"What's in it?" asked Binky with concern.

"I figured he put the stuff he stole in it." Exerting a bit of force, Molly pushed aside a panel to reveal a crude wooden door with a knob attached to the middle.

"Oh, man," said Binky, crouching to Molly's level. "You don't suppose..."

Cautiously opening the once-hidden door, Molly gasped at the sight of a small, narrow metal box laid within the plywood-lined space. She drew it out, all the while muttering, "Please, no...please, no..."

Binky held his breath in astonishment as Molly cradled the box in one hand and unlatched and opened it with the other.

She stifled an anguished scream.

Inside of the box lay a glittering diamond necklace.


	17. Diamonds Are a Girl's Worst Enemy

Binky's heart filled with compassion at the sight of the sobbing girl, whose hopes for the future had apparently been crushed by a string of sparkling diamonds. Yet he could still think of nothing helpful to say.

"That's only one necklace," he pointed out. "Where are the other two?"

Gritting her teeth and swallowing her tears, Molly slammed the metal box closed and fastened the latches. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed Binky by the arm and dragged him from the room. "Come on," she ordered. "We're going to the police. Now."

The box containing the necklace rattled in Molly's hand as she and Binky fled from the house with all the haste they could muster. The morning sun hailed them from the cloudless sky, but they paid no heed.

"Shouldn't we tell your mom?" Binky suggested.

"No time!" Molly barked.

Despite being clad in a dress, she remained in the lead as they ran the seven blocks to the police station. No more words were exchanged between them. Throughout the journey Binky feared that armed criminals, possibly including Molly's father, would ambush them and seize the diamonds.

They were half a block from the station when they saw a man stepping out of its entrance. A short, goateed cat man in a flannel suit.

"Mansch!" shrieked Molly.

The cat man became alarmed at the sight of the two frightened kids and the box Molly clutched in one hand. He leaped into hot pursuit.

"Run, Binky!" cried Molly, and the pair turned and sped down the street.

"Come back here!" shouted Mansch as he followed. His short legs provided him only a slight speed advantage over Binky and Molly.

Yet it was sufficient, as Molly saw the gap between them narrowing each time she looked over her shoulder. "He's gaining!" she exclaimed.

Only sidewalks and houses surrounded them in every direction. There were no trees or hills to hide behind. They were already exhausted from the quick trip to the police station. Mansch would catch them before long.

Then Binky had an idea. He wondered why it hadn't occurred to him earlier. The cat man wasn't much taller than they were, and didn't look especially strong.

"Are you...thinking...what I'm thinking?" he panted.

They ran for a few more seconds, their sore feet pounding the sidewalk. Mansch was almost upon them, and appeared ready to pounce.

Molly gripped the metal box as tightly as she could. "Now!" she bellowed.

The two kids stopped running, whirled, and flailed at Mansch with their fists. Binky's left hook hit its mark, striking the cat man's jaw and causing him to wail in pain. Molly, with her free fist, struck him in the lower torso.

Battered but unintimidated, Mansch raised his fists and sneered as if welcoming the kids to attack. Binky lunged forward with a right hook aimed at his face, but he deftly blocked it and countered with a palm strike to the boy's nose. Feeling the sharp pain and the blood trickling over his lips, Binky groaned and stepped backwards, his will to fight shattered.

Mansch, his hands outstretched, advanced on the powerless Molly. He seemed oblivious to the stream of blood on the corner of his own mouth. "Give me the box, girl," he commanded. "I don't want any trouble."

Seeing no point in running or fighting, Molly could only stand motionless and wait for the inevitable...

"What's going on here?" came a man's voice. To her relief, two male police officers were running toward the scene of the battle.

Mansch appeared calm and unruffled as the men in blue confronted him. Binky, stinging from his injury, drew a handkerchief from his pocket and started to mop the blood from his face. Molly clung to the box, hesitant to allow anyone to take it from her.

"You arrived just in time," said Mansch to the officers in a gravelly but friendly voice. "If you open the box the girl is holding, I believe you'll find something valuable and stolen."

One of the officers held out his hand to Molly. "Let's have a look."

The rabbit girl, knowing the foolishness of resisting officers of the law, slowly passed the metal box into the policeman's hand. Intrigued by the rattling sound that emanated from the box as he straightened it, the officer unhooked the latches and raised the lid. "Well, I'll be a..." he blurted out in astonishment.

"You don't understand," Molly pleaded. "It was in my dad's..."

"Wait a biddit." The bloody-nosed Binky raised a hand to silence Molly, then turned to face Mansch. "How did you doe the decklace was id the box?"

"That's not important," said Mansch gruffly.

"We'll have to ask the three of you to come with us to the station," said the officer as he carefully closed the box.

"With pleasure," said Mansch. "I only left there a minute ago. I was offering my assistance in recovering the stolen necklaces."

As Molly pondered on Binky's question, it all became clear to her...

"I get it now," she snapped at Mansch. "You were afraid my dad would implicate you, so you sneaked into our house last night and planted the necklace."

"Ridiculous," the cat man muttered, rubbing his swollen jaw.

"Come along, kids," ordered one of the officers.

"And I'll bet you lured him out of town with a phony job interview, too," Molly snarled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Mansch insisted.

The three were bundled into the back of a nearby police car, and driven the short distance to the station. The officers on duty greeted Mansch as if he were a familiar friend, and placed Binky and Molly in a locked room together.

The station being an old building, the room lacked air conditioning. It soon became uncomfortably hot for the two worried children. They had no way to entertain themselves other than staring at the pictures on the walls of graduating classes from the police academy. The wooden chairs chafed the skin of their posteriors.

"Dad's innocent," said Molly glumly. "He's got to be."

"Unless he was working with Mansch," added the swollen-nosed Binky. "Either way, Mansch is guilty."

"He got away once," said Molly with determination. "He won't get away again, if I can help it."

"But how do we prove Mansch was the culprit?" Binky wondered. "We're just kids, and not very bright kids at that."

"I don't know," Molly lamented. "Mansch is smart. He'll twist things to make it look like my dad stole the diamonds."

"Then maybe we should concentrate on proving your dad's innocence," Binky suggested.

"You're right," Molly commended him. "Then my dad would be free to implicate Mansch in the other robbery."

"It's just a question of how," remarked Binky.

The two kids sat in the hot room, racking their brains for ideas.

"I've got it," Molly spoke up.

"What?"

"I'll tell them I stole the diamonds," she proposed.

Binky's eyes widened. "That's crazy!"

"The worst they can do is send me to juvie," said Molly.

"They won't believe you," Binky insisted.

"I'll tell them my dad taught me everything he knows about being a thief," Molly went on. "It's an open and shut case. The police caught me with the stolen necklace. How can you argue with that?"

"Let me do it," Binky pleaded. "I'll confess to stealing the diamonds, and I'll go to juvie."

"Don't be silly," Molly chided him. "If they won't believe me, they sure as heck won't believe you. Besides, you've been to juvie already. I haven't."

"You're not going to juvie without me," Binky proclaimed.

"Fine," said Molly, "if that's the way you want it. You can be my accomplice."

"Fine."

Having decided on a course of action, Binky and Molly had nothing left to do but gaze into each other's eyes.

"Binky?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you want me to go to juvie without you?"


	18. The Call from Los Cactos

Francine and Sue Ellen spent much of the day at Nigel and Carla's house, waiting breathlessly for the call from Los Cactos that would hopefully inform them of the fates of Sue Ellen's parents. The call finally came at shortly after two in the afternoon. Carla had left to attend a computer training course, so Nigel answered the phone.

"Hi, Mr. Ratburn," came a girl's voice. "This is Odette Cooper. I have news."

Nigel motioned toward Sue Ellen and Francine, who were idly assembling a jigsaw puzzle. He pushed the speakerphone so that the two anxious girls could hear, and laid down the receiver.

"Is it good news or bad news?" he inquired.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," reported the voice of Odette.

Francine and Sue Ellen turned to each other. They knew their worst fears were about to be confirmed...yet how could they have hoped for any other outcome?

"We found April," Odette went on. "She's all right, but the federal authorities won't release her until they figure out how she got past the lab's security systems. She told us what happened, and we wrote it down. Here goes."

As the faraway swan girl spoke, Mr. Ratburn knelt and drew in Sue Ellen and Francine with his arms, cradling their heads on his chest.

"We were all tied up and blindfolded," Odette began. "Me, and Sue Ellen, and our parents. The man who kidnapped us was talking through a voice modifier. He said he would let Sue Ellen live, but only if Dad told her the truth about his work for the CIA. So he did. I almost died when I heard it. He was a CIA assassin. His job was to kill government leaders who posed a threat to the United States. I didn't want to believe it, but he swore it was the truth. Then he took Sue Ellen away. I'm happy to hear she's alive and well. But our parents weren't so lucky."

Mr. Ratburn's eyes grew misty as muffled sobs from Francine and Sue Ellen touched his heart.

"When he came back, I heard some silenced gunshots. I called out to my parents, but they didn't answer. The man told me he had carried out his orders, and he wasn't interested in killing little girls. I asked him to kill me too, because I didn't want to live without my parents. That's when he chloroformed me. I woke up in a dumpster, in a strange part of the city."

"They're dead," moaned Sue Ellen, her head heaving against Nigel's breast.

"I thought about going after the man who killed them, and getting revenge, but what was the point? He was probably getting revenge for someone Dad assassinated. The killing won't stop until one side chooses to stop it. Sue Ellen, Francine, I know you're reading this. Sue Ellen, our parents loved you very much. I hope I can get out of this holding cell soon, so I can see you again, so we can be sisters, or something. Francine, I'm sorry you had to be dragged into the affairs of the Armstrongs. At least you still have one family left." A second or two of silence was heard. "That's the end."

"Thank you, Odette," said Mr. Ratburn, his voice breaking.

"We'll see you when we get back," were Odette's last words before the call ended.

Pulling some Kleenexes from a box on the table, Mr. Ratburn did his best to wipe the tears from the girls' faces.

"I'm all alone now," Sue Ellen mourned.

"Not as long as I'm around," said Francine comfortingly.

"Carla and I won't abandon you," Nigel promised.

Francine grabbed a Kleenex and blew her nose for what she hoped would be the last time. "I'll go out and spread the word," she offered.

----

With his parents away at a PTA meeting, Arthur was once again tasked with caring for Grandpa Dave, as well as D.W. It was a tedious chore, made only slightly more tolerable by the Spooky Poo videos they had rented.

"I would've gotten away with it, if not for you meddling kids and your kangaroo," spat the villain.

D.W. was engrossed in it, and Grandpa Dave seemed to appreciate it for the sentimental value, but Arthur concluded that if he had seen one episode, he had seen them all. As he tried to come up with another way to pass the time, the doorbell rang. He opened the door to find Francine on the doorstep, her expression downcast.

"Come in, Francine."

The two seated themselves at opposite ends of the kitchen table. Arthur could tell from the girl's demeanor what message she had to bear.

"So Sue Ellen's an orphan."

Francine nodded weakly.

"I'm really sorry."

In the face of the situation, neither of them could think of anything meaningful to say.

Finally, Francine decided to say something meaningless.

"Stupid Mr. Putnam," she groused, "and his stupid body-switching device. If not for him, I wouldn't have Sue Ellen's personality stuck in my head. I wouldn't be so affected by the loss of her parents. I wouldn't have fallen in love with you, and I wouldn't be angry at you for cheating on me."

Arthur felt too embarrassed to speak.

"Why did you do it?" Francine asked earnestly. "Wasn't I was good as Beat?"

It was the first time the girl had confronted him with such a question.

"I don't know," Arthur answered. "Maybe it was the early puberty thing she's going through. She was getting...cuter. Every time I looked at her, I was more attracted to her and less attracted to you."

"You should have told me instead of going behind my back," Francine scolded him. "That would have been easier."

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings," said Arthur. "But I guess I hurt them anyway. I'm sorry, Francine. I was stupid."

Francine smiled. Arthur cupped his hand on the table, and she curled up her fingers inside of it.

----

"Tell Sue Ellen she can come here and talk to me anytime she wants," Muffy instructed Francine as her friend departed from the Crosswire condominium.

She sat quietly in an easy chair for about ten minutes, pondering on the awful trials Sue Ellen had passed through, and had yet to face. Her reverie was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. From the number on the display, she surmised it was Angela.

"Hi, Muffy," said the rat woman on the other end of the line. "I have good news and bad news."

"The bad news can't be any worse than what Francine just told me," said Muffy. "Go ahead."

"The Oberlins are not going to adopt Graham," Angela told her. "That's good news for you, but bad news for me."

"I'm sure glad to hear it. What made them change their minds?"

"They didn't change their minds." Angela's tone grew serious. "I changed mine. I don't think they can be trusted."

Muffy held her breath, expecting a vindication of her suspicions.

"I got a letter today," Angela went on. "Social Services asked Mrs. Oberlin to provide them with a doctor's certificate proving that she can't have babies of her own. She gave them one, but it turned out to be a fake."

Muffy puzzled over what she had just been told. "Does that mean...does that mean she really can have babies?"

"I'm not sure," Angela replied. "But I don't think it's right to lie about something like that, when there are so many women who really can't give birth."

"It doesn't make sense," mused Muffy. "If she can have her own babies, she shouldn't need to adopt one."

"That's what I told her. She just hung up on me."

An insistent pounding was heard at the door. Mrs. Crosswire went to answer it, and Muffy noticed that C.V. was marching through the doorway--and he looked furious.

"Hold on, Angela." She laid the phone on the armrest and rose to receive the angry boy.

"I hate you, Muffy Crosswire!" C.V. bellowed. "Thanks to you, I don't get a baby brother!"

"It's not my fault," Muffy retorted. "Your mom lied about..."

"Silence!" C.V. cut her off. "You have incurred the just wrath of Captain Valiant, and now you will pay the price!"

Sensing a threat, Mrs. Crosswire stepped forward to shield her daughter. However, C.V. didn't attack. Not physically.

The fear returned. Muffy recognized it from the occasion when she had insulted him. She couldn't resist it. She was terrified of his piercing glare, terrified of her mother, terrified of the room, terrified of everything. Terror was overpowering her every thought and feeling. It dawned upon her that C.V. was somehow controlling her fear, ratcheting it up to unbearable levels.

She screamed. She screamed again. She couldn't stop herself from screaming.

"Muffy!" cried Mrs. Crosswire, catching her daughter as she sank to the floor, overwhelmed by hysteria. C.V. only stood motionlessly and stared at the girl with narrow eyes.

Muffy continued to scream as her mother held her and called to her. Then her screams grew shorter, and stopped. She breathed heavily. Her mouth gaped wide. Her unfocused eyes gazed into nothingness.

"Muffy! Muffy?"

The girl didn't respond to her mother's cries.

Mrs. Crosswire grabbed Muffy's cell phone and dialed 911. C.V., his fury spent, viewed with shame the state to which Muffy had been reduced. Looking down at his palms, he wondered how he, a defender of truth, justice, and freedom, could have allowed anger to overcome him in such a manner.

"I misused my powers again," he lamented.


	19. The Lady Vanishes

Her heart palpitating anxiously, Mrs. Crosswire tried her best to keep up with the speeding ambulance that bore her daughter Muffy, or at least to stay within sight of the emergency vehicle. In the seat next to her sat C.V., who wrung his hands and muttered dire predictions of Muffy's fate.

"She's gonna end up just like my dad," worried the bespectacled owl boy. "He couldn't work anymore after what I did to him."

Distracted by concern over her daughter's health, Mrs. Crosswire didn't answer.

When the pair reached the hospital room to which Muffy had been taken, they discovered to their relief that the girl was moving her head and looking about, apparently no longer in a catatonic state. "She regained consciousness in the ambulance," one of the paramedics notified her mother.

Mrs. Crosswire rushed to the side of the bed where Muffy was laid. "M-Mom?" whimpered the monkey girl, who then screamed and recoiled in terror upon the sight of C.V.'s face.

"She's...she's okay," marveled the overweight boy.

"Keep away from me!" shrieked Muffy, pulling a blanket over her head.

Seeing that his presence was frightening her, C.V. backed away until he was standing in the hospital corridor.

"I'm here, Muffy," cooed Mrs. Crosswire as she uncovered her daughter and laid arms around her.

"C.V. did it, Mom," Muffy ranted feverishly. "He used some sort of psychic attack on me. He has evil powers."

"My powers aren't evil!" retorted C.V., who had overheard the remark.

"His mom lied," Muffy went on. "She said she can't have babies, but I think she can. I think she's afraid her babies will have evil powers."

Muffy's insult to his mother's integrity angered C.V., but a part of him suspected there might be truth in the girl's ramblings. Ever since the incident with his father years ago, his parents had assured him that he would someday be a great hero, and use his special gifts for good. Could it be they were merely putting up a front, and were actually afraid of him?

Another part of him was relieved that Muffy's condition hadn't proven much more serious. Emotionally crippling a fellow student at age eleven wouldn't look good on a superhero's resume--not to mention the dreadful punishment his parents would mete out.

He stepped slowly into the hospital room, hoping Muffy wouldn't panic and jump out a window. "I'm sorry for what I did," he told the terror-struck girl. "I was mad because my mom didn't get to adopt the baby."

"That wasn't my fault," Muffy insisted.

"I'm just glad you're okay," said C.V. contritely. "I've never used my powers at such a high level before. I could have killed you."

"What powers are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Crosswire.

"For as long as I can remember," C.V. explained, "I've been able to make people afraid. When people make fun of me, I just look at them and concentrate, and they shut up and start shaking all over. If I concentrate harder, I can make them run away screaming. And if I get really mad and concentrate really hard"--his tone became somber--"that's what happened to my dad."

Muffy shook her head in disbelief as she tried to wrap her imagination around what C.V. had admitted. "I still say your powers are evil," she said accusingly. "They're only good for hurting people."

"And striking terror into the hearts of evildoers," C.V. boasted.

"Shut up!" bellowed Muffy, her eyes livid. "You're not a superhero! If you're anything at all, you're a super_villain!_"

No choice of bitter words could have shocked C.V. more...

----

Desert, desert, desert. Odette craned her neck this way and that, but all she could see through the sun-scorched windows of the airport terminal was endless, flat, empty desert. Not even a clump of sagebrush was visible. Who would want to live in such an unwelcoming place? she wondered.

Half an hour remained before their flight was scheduled to depart. Mrs. Cooper, her mother, sat peacefully in a plastic chair, reading the local newspaper. THREE MORE MUTANT JACKRABBITS FOUND, read the headline. A few seats from her Augusta Winslow had twisted herself into a lotus position, apparently in a state of meditation. Odette had walked back and forth past the bookstore, the souvenir shop (with its allegedly genuine fragments of atomic shell casings), and the few fast-food joints several times, but had seen nothing remotely interesting.

Maybe this was a good time, she thought. Ever since leaving Elwood City she had been intrigued by Augusta's claims to (and demonstrations of) magical powers. Her mother had shrugged it off as mere parlor tricks, which perhaps it was, yet they were the kind of exciting tricks she would love to perform if she only had a parlor.

She seated herself next to the blond rabbit woman and cleared her throat. "Hey, Augusta, I was wondering..."

She didn't get to finish her sentence, as Augusta's cell phone suddenly rang.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Rick." Augusta's face lit up. Odette had heard her speak much about Rick Portinari, the handsome and personable psychiatrist with whom she was enjoying a passionate relationship. Rumors had circulated that the man was a space alien in human guise--if so, then a perfect companion for the eccentric Augusta, thought Odette.

"They had sealed off April's cell for what they claimed were reasons of national security," Augusta blathered into the phone. "But I exerted a little bit of my girlish charm, and they were like hot butter in my hands. Uh, I mean putty."

Odette noticed that the rabbit woman didn't unfold her legs while talking on the cell phone. She knew she had to be really bored to notice such things.

A split second later, she was anything but bored.

A ripple of electricity spread through the swan girl's body and up through her neck, causing the feathers on the back of her head to stick out. She had scarcely noticed this oddity when a sudden, intense, noiseless burst of light surrounded Augusta. It lasted only a moment, and then her magical friend was gone, cell phone and all.

Odette screamed involuntarily.

Mrs. Cooper whirled about in her chair. "Odette! What...?"

"A...A...Aug..." the astonished girl stammered.

Augusta had vanished completely, and in mid-sentence. Odette frantically waved her neck in all directions, scanning the small terminal for the woman, but in vain.

Where had she gone?


	20. Karmic Reward

Upon hearing that Muffy had spent time in the hospital, her friends descended on the Crosswire condominium to wish her well and ask nosy questions. (Binky was noticeable by his absence.) To their disappointment, the girl appeared perfectly healthy and well-adjusted.

"So C.V. really is a superhero," mused Buster.

"He's super-creepy, that's what he is," Muffy responded.

"It does seem rather odd," remarked Beat, "that C.V.'s father has spent years recovering from his attack, yet you seem to have suffered no lasting damage."

"Yes, that is weird," Muffy agreed.

"Show me exactly what happened," Beat requested.

"Okay." Muffy sat down in an easy chair and raised her cell phone to her ear. "I was sitting right here, talking to Angela on the cell phone. Then C.V. came in and started yelling at me. I put the phone down"--she rested the phone on the armrest and rose from the chair--"and stood up. We argued a little, then my mom came between us, and C.V. started staring at me. I freaked out and started screaming, and the next thing I knew, I was in the ambulance."

As Beat carefully pondered Muffy's description, the other kids murmured to each other about the revelation of C.V.'s mysterious abilities.

"I'll bet his powers would have no effect on you," Arthur said to Sue Ellen. "You're not afraid of anything."

"I'm afraid of being alone," Sue Ellen replied glumly.

"Augusta has powers," George mentioned to Fern. "Maybe she could be part of a superhero team called the Ex-Men. Get it? Ex-Men?"

"It would be cool to have special powers," Buster remarked to Francine.

In his imagination, he and the other kids were gathered on a hilltop, watching as a glowing round disc descended rapidly from the evening sky. He separated himself from his friends and stood in the spot where the object appeared ready to strike, waving his arms and calling out, "Hey, alien! Land here!"

"Buster, get away from there!" Alan warned him.

But it was too late--the space rock plowed into the ground exactly where Buster stood, throwing up a cloud of smoke and dirt.

"Hey, you squished Buster!" Francine complained.

Everyone stood solemnly, thinking their young rabbit friend had been flattened, as the giant meteor let off an eerie pale green light.

Then an incredible thing happened. The rock began to rise into the air. To the kids' amazement, Buster was effortlessly holding the enormous space object over his head!

"Check it out!" he exclaimed, grinning proudly. "I have super strength!" With that, he bent his knees and elbows, and hurled the shining meteor half a mile away.

"Amazing," Alan commented. "The radiation from the meteor must have altered our genetic structure, giving us mutant powers." He narrowed his eyes, and a burst of laser energy suddenly shot from his pupils, frying a nearby tree.

"I knew you were going to say that," said Prunella. "Hey, I have the power to read minds!"

Buster rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "Hey, why are there two Sue Ellens?"

One of the Sue Ellens looked down at her body and gasped. "What the..." she exclaimed, lifting her hands to touch her curly hair and cat ears. Then, as everyone watched in awe, she transformed into the image of Fern.

"Hey, I can change shape," she said, smiling. Snapping her fingers, she morphed into Binky. "Look at me! I'm a stupid boy! Duuuuh!"

"Stop doing that," groused the real Binky, who suddenly vanished and reappeared two yards from where he had stood. "Whoa, I just teleported!"

Francine stuck out her hand, and Buster started to float into the air. "I can move stuff around with my brain!" she boasted.

Arthur pressed his hand against a boulder, and it passed through transparently to the other side. "I can ghost through things!" he realized.

Sue Ellen waved her hand at the sky, and a lightning storm immediately commenced. "I can control the weather!" she announced.

Muffy touched Sue Ellen, then raised her arm and mentally ordered the storm to cease. "I don't want my good dress to get wet," she whined.

George glumly pointed at the top of his head. "I have a third antler," he moaned.

Alan, meanwhile, was having a fantasy sequence of his own. It was similar to Buster's, except that the kids all died of radiation poisoning as a result of being exposed to the meteor.

----

It was Saturday evening, and Mrs. Cooper had just arrived at her home with Odette, where the two were recounting the disappearance of Augusta Winslow to Maria Harris and her daughter, Nadine.

"She was talking on her cell phone, then I felt this weird shock, there was a flash of light, and she wasn't there anymore," was Odette's description.

"We looked all through the airport for her," added Mrs. Cooper.

"I hope nothing's happened to her," said the visibly worried Maria.

Nadine, idly listening in on the exchange, was distracted by the arrival of her classmate Dallin. "Hey, Nadine, what's going on?"

"Auntie Augusta disappeared," replied the squirrel girl. "They don't know where she is. Maybe she's lost in the desert."

"That's too bad," said the little duck boy. "Wanna see the new race track Dad bought for me and Van?"

"Sure." Nadine followed Dallin into the room he shared with Van, and they whiled away the minutes spinning race cars around the electrified track.

It wasn't long before they heard a strange man's voice from the living room. Wondering who had just arrived, the two first-graders hurried out of the bedroom. A well-dressed bulldog man was speaking with Mrs. Cooper and Maria, and judging from the somber expression on his face, he had bad news to deliver. Dallin didn't recognize the man, but Nadine knew him as Augusta's paramour, Dr. Rick Portinari.

"I'm afraid we may not see Augusta again for a long time," the psychiatrist told Maria and Mrs. Cooper. His eyes were lowered, as if he felt too ashamed to face his audience directly.

"Why not?" asked the startled Maria.

"It's complicated," answered Portinari. "First of all, you may have heard rumors that I'm really a space alien in disguise. The rumors are true."

"I believe you," said Maria. "Now tell me what happened to Augusta."

"Very well." Portinari cleared his throat. "Earlier this year, I broke the laws of my people while under Augusta's magical influence, and as punishment was exiled permanently from my home planet."

"Go on." Maria seemed to grow more flustered with every word.

"My crime was an act of illegal time travel," Portinari continued, "which resulted in duplicates of myself and Augusta being created. The duplicates, who were innocent, decided to spend some time on my homeworld. My people studied the Augusta duplicate's powers while she was there, and came to the conclusion that I had, indeed, been manipulated."

Maria's face darkened as the strands of Portinari's tale grew denser.

"The Time Council offered to commute my sentence," the bulldog man went on, "but on one condition." The pain in his heart manifested itself in his darting eyes. "I was to help them bring Augusta to justice."

Maria gasped with alarm. The hairs on her tail bristled.

"I agreed to do so." Portinari clasped his hands and stared at the floor. "I made a call to her cell phone, allowing the Time Council to pinpoint her location and take her into custody."

"You son of a..."

Out of one eye, Portinari saw Maria Harris' outraged face. Out of the other he could see nothing, as the squirrel woman's fist was hurtling toward it.

The impact of Maria's fist with Portinari's left eye reverberated throughout the house. Nadine, Dallin, Odette, and Mrs. Cooper were left breathless and wide-eyed. The bulldog man lost his footing and plummeted onto his back. Maria towered over him, her fists still clenched, her expression a mask of indignation.

"You scumbag!" she snarled. "How could you do that to someone you claim to love? And after all she's been through! You were her last chance for happiness!" It was all she could do to restrain herself from kicking Portinari while he was down.

Mrs. Cooper stepped forward and put her hands on Maria's shoulders, while Nadine and Dallin maintained a safe distance. The fallen bulldog man gently caressed the broken flesh around his eye. "That really hurt," he admitted. "It's a good thing I'm incapable of aggression."

As he struggled to his feet, Maria could feel nothing but an urge to knock him on his back again.

"Please try to understand," the man said softly. "I was only doing my duty, and they would have taken her with or without my help."

"Oh, I do understand," grumbled Maria, barely suppressing her anger. "Come on, Nadine." Taking her daughter by the hand, she marched out of the Cooper home without another word.

She remained sullen and downcast throughout the drive to her house. Nadine, buckled into the passenger seat of their old Chevy, struggled to comprehend what had transpired.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Maria grumbled. "Men are pigs. Lying, selfish pigs. They tell you they love you, then they stab you in the back."

"But, Mom," Nadine nervously pointed out, "Mr. Winslow was a nice man."

"Yes, and look what happened to him," Maria complained. "I guess that's what happens to all good men. They turn into women, or get beamed up by aliens, or both. It's like a karmic reward."

Nadine held her peace. She hadn't heard her mother speak so bitterly since the days following the divorce. Could this mean they were about to move again?

"Poor Angus," Maria lamented. "If only he hadn't changed. Then he never would have experienced what we women have to go through."


	21. The Feminadine Mystique

"Some superhero you're shaping up to be," the green-cowled figure of Infinity Man seemed to speak from the poster on the ceiling. "You're more fit for the League of Super Freaks."

Almost two hours had passed since C.V. had been confined to his bedroom as punishment for his invasion of Muffy's mind. He sorely needed to use the bathroom (being diabetic only compounded the problem), but he was determined to stay until his mother called for him. After all, he thought, a good superhero should always obey his mother. Yet the thought gnawed at the back of his brain--was he a good superhero, or a bad one? Or not a superhero at all? He had heard of comic books where the super-powered characters were fatally flawed, made serious mistakes, and even treaded the line between good and evil. His parents wouldn't allow him to read those books. In his world, the heroes stood on one side and the villains on the other, and the heroes could always be counted upon to save the day.

His mother finally pushed open the door, and seated herself on the bed next to him. Her look was solemn and scolding. "Did you think about what you did today?" she asked the owl boy.

"Constantly," C.V. answered meekly. "It was wrong. I'm so sorry."

"You should be," said Mrs. Oberlin firmly. "You have a gift no one else has. If you use it for the wrong reason, you could hurt or kill someone you love. Remember, with great power comes great responsibility."

"I know, Mom." Overwhelmed by shame, C.V. wouldn't look up at his mother.

Apparently satisfied that her son had realized his error, Mrs. Oberlin started to raise the corners of her lips into a smile. Then C.V. asked the question he had been mulling for so long.

"Mom, is it really true that you can't have babies anymore?"

Startled by the inquiry, Mrs. Oberlin found herself unable to speak.

"Muffy thinks you don't want to have any more babies because you're afraid they'll have powers like mine," C.V. told her.

A long silence followed. Mrs. Oberlin stared at the wall, afraid her son might read the true answer from her eyes.

He divined it without her help. "So it's true," he realized sadly.

His mother took a deep, emotional breath. "Raising one child with super powers is trouble enough," she excused herself.

"You're afraid of my powers," said C.V. in an accusing tone.

His mother spent a few seconds searching for the right words, then gave up. "Your punishment is over," she announced, then rose and walked out of the room.

C.V. laid back on his mattress and plunged into deep thought. Was Muffy right? Were his powers a tool for evil that frighened even his parents?

----

Saturday evening was drawing to a close. At the local police station, Binky and Molly were engaged in tired conversation, almost ready to lay down in their cots for a night of rest in their neighboring cells.

"The uniforms get really itchy at night," Binky advised Molly.

"I'll try not to scratch myself too loud," Molly responded.

Their nocturnal plans were interrupted by the arrival of Molly's parents, accompanied by the officer on night duty. "Get out of bed," barked Mr. McDonald, who still wore the shabby suit he had put on for the job interview that hadn't taken place. "You're not spending another second in this jail."

Molly sat up quickly, overjoyed that her father had returned without incident.

"I don't know how you got your hands on those stolen diamonds," said Mr. McDonald, "and I don't care. I know you're not a thief, Molly. Now tell the officer what really happened, so we can all go home."

Molly stood up and faced her father with determination. "I already told the police what really happened," she insisted. "I stole the diamonds."

"And I helped," added Binky.

"That's impossible!" bellowed Mr. McDonald. "Those necklaces were guarded by state-of-the-art security systems. The only way you could have stolen them is with the help of a professional. Was it Mansch?"

"Nope," Molly replied flippantly. "Just me and Binky."

Mr.McDonald cursed under his breath, while his wife shook her head in disbelief.

"I'd be careful of Mansch if I were you, Dad," Molly continued. "I think he's up to something. And keep your eye on the secret compartment."

Confused by his daughter's lack of concern, Mr.McDonald could only gape wordlessly.

"And don't forget to water the...plants," said Molly, stretching out the last word cryptically.

The night officer glanced at her watch. "It's almost closing time," she told Molly's parents.

Mr.McDonald scowled disapprovingly at his daughter as he and his wife followed the officer away from the cell block.

"None of this makes any sense," Mrs.McDonald remarked to her husband.

"Yes, but there's a method to her madness," mused Mr. McDonald. "She's trying to tell me something, but I'm not sure what."

----

Maria Harris spent the remainder of the day grousing about men, from Dr. Portinari to her ex-husband, and all in between. Her words were still ringing in Nadine's little squirrel ears as the girl lay covered by warm blankets. "Men are pigs...they can't be trusted...they only care about themselves..."

Nadine descended into drowsiness, then troubled sleep. In her dreams she imagined herself in a vast, beautiful garden, filled with brightly colored flowers and trees bearing every kind of fruit. Numerous animals wandered about the place--sheep, gazelles, lions--yet not one of them feared her, or tried to harm her. She was completely naked, but was too taken with the garden's transcendent beauty to care about the fact. So was the boy whom she saw walking toward her, clutching a piece of fruit in his hand. He was either Tommy or Timmy Tibble--she couldn't tell which.

"Pardon me, little boy," she questioned him. "Are you Tommy or Timmy?"

"Uh, I don't know," replied Tommy or Timmy. "I can't tell us apart."

"Where did you get that fruit?" asked Nadine, gazing curiously at the apple in the boy's hand.

"From that tree over there." Tommy or Timmy gestured toward an apple tree, in front of which was posted a sign with the warning, THOU SHALT NOT EAT THE FRUIT OF THIS TREE. "It's really good. Wanna try it?"

"I, er, don't think I should," Nadine answered fearfully.

"What's the matter?" the boy goaded her. "Are you afraid?"

"Yes," Nadine admitted.

Tommy or Timmy smiled wickedly at her. "Have I ever told you that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen?" he said flatteringly.

"I'm the only girl you've ever seen," Nadine pointed out.

"Whatever." Tommy or Timmy bounced the piece of fruit in his hand. "I don't need to tell you that the dating pool in this garden is pretty shallow, and that you're stuck here forever. So unless you want to spend eternity alone, I suggest you start making my happiness your top priority. And what would make me happy right now is the sight of this fruit between your teeth."

Seeing no alternative, Nadine reluctantly took the fruit from the boy's outstretched hand and raised it to her mouth. The moment she took a bite out of it, a siren wailed and the entire sky flashed blue and red. Terrified, she dropped the fruit onto the perfectly trimmed green grass.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now," said Tommy or Timmy gleefully.

A cloud of glowing white smoke materialized in front of the boy and girl, and a stern voice boomed from it. "What hast thou done, Nadine?"

"Er...ah..." stammered the frightened girl.

"She ate the forbidden fruit," said Tommy or Timmy, pointing at Nadine. "I tried to talk her out of it."

"Because of what thou hast done," proclaimed the voice, "thou art banished forever from the garden. By the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread. Thy desire shall be to thy husband, and thou shalt prepare his meals, and bear his children, and endure whatsoever indignities he shall heap upon thee."

A door marked EXIT appeared before Nadine and swung open. Her eyes full of sorrow, she shuffled into the dark and dreary corridor beyond the doorway. The door closed and faded away.

Tommy or Timmy grinned as he looked into the smoky cloud. "Dude, now we've got the place to ourselves!" he gloated.

"Dude," said the booming voice.

Nadine's eyes popped open as the frightful dream ended. Even though it hadn't been real, she felt anger toward the imaginary boy who had so cruelly betrayed her. And God had sided with him--which stood to reason, as He was a man.

She started to doze off again. In the interests of equal time, her next dream was based on the evolutionist point of view.


	22. Reign of Terror

On Monday morning, two students embarked on a journey of discovery at Lakewood Elementary.

_I've got to find out if boys are really pigs, like my mom says_, Nadine told herself.

_Maybe Muffy's right_, thought C.V. _With powers like mine, maybe I'm more qualified to be a supervillain._

As D.W. and Nadine were strolling through the center court on their way to Mrs. Frensky's room, they saw Rattles approaching from a hallway. The big sixth grader was wearing his usual leather jacket, backwards cap, and menacing scowl.

"Oh, no! Look!" exclaimed D.W. "It's that big mean boy again!"

"Quiet, he'll hear you!" said Nadine in an even louder voice.

Rattles heard them indeed, and started straight toward them. There was no escape.

"Did I just hear you ask me to beat you up?" snarled the boy.

"No," replied D.W. innocently.

"That sounded like a yes," growled Rattles.

As he advanced on the two girls, C.V. boldly stepped into his path. "Leave them alone, you big dumb bully," he ordered.

Not accustomed to being challenged, especially by a fat owl boy with thick glasses, Rattles gaped and dropped his fists. Once he recovered his cool, he quipped, "You're in luck. Dork season opened today."

While Rattles assumed a fighting stance, C.V. simply stared at him through narrowed eyes. The bully's expression morphed from fearless determination to uncertainty, then anxiety, then outright terror. He stepped backwards and began to tremble. "D-don't hurt me," he pleaded.

"I like your hat," said C.V. calmly. "Give it to me."

"Sure, anything." His teeth chattering, Rattles quickly tore the cap from his head and dropped it into C.V.'s waiting hands. He then turned and fled with utmost haste.

D.W. and Nadine smiled gratefully at the owl boy as he pushed the cap onto his head with the brim facing forwards. "You're a hero," said Nadine sweetly.

"No, I'm not," was C.V.'s response. "I'm a monster, and I'm going to eat you."

Fear seized the girls' minds, and they ran away from the boy's presence, screaming bloody murder. C.V. chuckled with satisfaction.

They were still screaming when they entered their first-grade classroom. Mrs. Frensky, Emily, and the Tibbles were there, preparing for the day's lesson. "What's the matter, girls?" asked the teacher when she saw their pale faces.

"The fat boy with glasses is gonna eat us!" cried Nadine.

"He's really scary!" added D.W.

"Calm down," Mrs. Frensky reassured them. "You're safe in here."

The girls had recovered from their fright by the end of the first period. As they and their classmates were handing in their alphabet worksheets, Timmy Tibble decided to play a prank on Nadine. Grabbing the rim of her petticoat, he yanked it up over her head, fully exposing her stockings.

"Hey!" exclaimed the outraged Nadine.

Quick as a flash, Timmy shoved the petticoat into the hands of JamesMcDonald, who stood unsuspectingly nearby. When Nadine turned and saw the startled rabbit boy's hands clutching her dress, she wasted no time in launching her fist at his nose.

The blow knocked James onto the floor. "Owww!" he groaned. "Mrs. Frensky!"

All the kids gazed at Nadine, astonished at the usually gentle girl's act of violence. The teacher grabbed her by the arm and started to drag her from the room.

"You're a pig," Nadine yelled at James as she was hauled away.

"But I...I didn't..." James protested, but no one was listening.

Moments later the sullen-faced Nadine sat across from Principal Haney in his office. "Hitting is wrong," the principal explained to her. "You should apologize to James for hitting him."

"He looked up my dress," Nadine complained. "He's a pig. All boys are pigs."

"Boys are not pigs," insisted Mr. Haney.

"Boys are mean to girls all the time, and they don't apologize," groused Nadine. "My dad beat up my mom, and he never apologized. The big fat boy tried to eat me, and he didn't apologize. Dr. Rick let the aliens take Auntie Augusta away, even though he was her boyfriend, and he didn't apologize. So why should a girl have to apologize for hitting a boy?"

"Don't talk back, young lady," said the principal sternly.

"You're a pig too," Nadine berated him. "You're being mean to me just because I'm a girl. I don't have to take this anymore. I can fight back, like my mom did."

Astonished at the girl's petulance, Mr. Haney could think of nothing to do except phone her mother.

----

Juvenile court was in session, with the honorable Judge Trudy presiding. The trial had been scheduled early, given the serious nature of the charges and the pricelessness of the stolen goods. Binky and Molly were the defendants, and their worried parents sat in the audience chairs, along with Mr. Mansch.

The short cat man was standing (although it was hard to tell) and addressing the judge. "There's no way these two young people could have pulled off such a heist," he said in a gravelly voice. "They must have collaborated with an expert thief. I personally know of only two people in this city who possess the necessary skills--myself, and Ben McDonald."

"Thank you, Mr. Mansch," said the judge flatly.

Mr.McDonald stood up next. "I believe I know why my daughter is taking the blame for the diamond robbery," said the rabbit man. "I suspect that she found the stolen necklace in a secret compartment in my house, and was on her way to turn it in to the police, when she encountered Ray Mansch. When Mansch chased her down, despite having no way of knowing that she had the necklace in her possession, she came to the conclusion that Mansch must have planted the necklace in an attempt to frame me. Therefore, to protect my good name, she claimed to have stolen the diamonds herself."

Mansch growled indignantly. The court-appointed defense lawyer turned to Molly and asked, "Is this true?"

"I plead the Fifth," replied Molly indifferently.

The pointless exchange continued, as neither the judge nor the attorney could obtain any helpful information from Molly or Binky.

"It is the opinion of this court that someone was involved in the crime other than the defendants," the judge finally ruled. "However, until we find out who that someone is, through further investigation...I hereby sentence MollyMcDonald and Binky Barnes to be detained at the Katzenellenbogan Juvenile Correction Facility for a period not to exceed three months."

Binky's parents bowed their heads. "Here we go again," Mrs. Barnes muttered to her husband.

----

It was morning recess, and C.V. and Nadine were furthering their new agendas in the playground. As Muffy strolled along carelessly, C.V. came up alongside her with a pair of pointed scissors in his hand. "Hey, Muffy," he greeted her, "I've got scissors if you need them."

"Why would I need scissors?" asked the girl, stopping in front of the jungle gym.

"To cut off your braids, of course," C.V explained.

"Why would I want to cut off my braids?"

"Because they're snakes."

It suddenly dawned on Muffy that C.V. was about to victimize her again, but there was nothing she could do. The boy's piercing glance caused terror to well up in her stomach.

"Sssnakesss...sssnakesss..." C.V. hissed playfully.

As fear overpowered her ability to resist suggestion, Muffy began to imagine that her braids were indeed serpents, slithering creepily about the sides of her head. Screaming with fright, she snatched the scissors from C.V.'s hand and frantically snipped at the top of her left braid until it came loose. After she had similarly severed her right braid, she gazed in horror at the two writhing snakes at her feet. Then the fear left her, and she recognized what she had done.

"You...you..." she spat at C.V., anguished tears forming in her eyes.

The owl boy responded with a smirk.

Desperately wanting to take revenge on the boy, yet knowing what his power could do to her, Muffy turned and ran away, weeping bitterly. C.V. took a second to kick around the fallen braids before walking off.

D.W. and Nadine were watching from the swings as the sobbing Muffy hurried by. "The big fat boy cut off her hair," Nadine observed. "He's the biggest pig of all."

"Not all boys are pigs," D.W. told her. "Arthur's not a pig."

"But he bosses you around all the time," Nadine pointed out.

"That's only because he's older than me," replied D.W.

"If you were older than him, would you boss him around?" asked Nadine.

D.W. thought for a moment. She thought for another moment.

"Maybe you're right."


	23. Fearmonger

By lunch hour, C.V.'s terrible reputation had spread throughout the school. Arthur and his friends decided it would be wise to hang together in case he threatened them, and they were in such a state of togetherness in the cafeteria line. Arthur himself was in the front, with Muffy, Buster, Sue Ellen, George, Alan, Francine, and Beat taking up his rear.

"I wonder where Binky is," said Buster to Francine. "I haven't seen him all day."

"I heard something about him going to jail," replied Francine.

"Too bad," Buster remarked. "Having a big guy like him around might make C.V. think twice."

"Nah," said Francine. "Binky would wet his pants and run at the first sign of trouble."

And the first sign of trouble wasn't far away. As Arthur walked away from the counter with his meal of lasagna and tapioca pudding, a sudden jolt of terror struck him, causing him to scream and drop his tray.

"Arthur, what is it?" asked the concerned Sue Ellen.

"Uh, I'm okay," said Arthur, breathing heavily. "Something scared me, but I don't know what."

But his friends knew what had scared him, as they saw C.V. leaning against a nearby wall, grinning condescendingly at them.

Infuriated, the kids laid down their trays and assembled into a mob to confront the owl boy, careful to avoid stepping on the lasagna and pudding scattered on the cafeteria floor.

"You can't defeat all of us with your fear powers," Alan challenged him.

"Oh, but I can," replied the unworried boy. "For I am...THE FEARMONGER!"

He didn't need to say another word. All at once the kids' confidence and anger was replaced by stark terror. They fled screaming from C.V., several of them slipping on the mess and falling on their backsides. The owl boy laughed mockingly.

Stinging from their humiliation, the kids gathered outside of the cafeteria entrance and surveyed the damage. Muffy, George, and Buster had food stains all over their clothing as a result of their tumbles; the others were shaken, but still clean.

"I'm gonna kill him," Muffy grumbled. "First he made me cut my hair, and now he's ruined my dress."

"There must be a way to make him stop," said Francine bitterly. "Alan, Beat, you're the smart ones."

"There's a way to make him stop, all right," Alan responded. "The question is, is there a way to make him stop that wouldn't count as a felony?"

"He must have a weakness," Beat mused. "Something stopped him from using his full power on Muffy. But what was it?"

"Maybe he has a crush on her," George suggested.

"Oh, puh-leeze," groaned Muffy.

"Let's go talk to the principal," Sue Ellen recommended. "Maybe he'll have some ideas."

When the kids reached Mr. Haney's office, they saw him standing and talking with two women. One was an owl lady whom they took to be C.V.'s mother. The other...

"Mom?" gasped Alan in surprise. "What are you doing here? Am I in trouble?"

"No, of course not," answered Mrs. Powers with a sweet smile.

"You kids are probably here because of young Mr. Oberlin's misbehavior," said the principal. "You won't have to worry about him for much longer. Everything is under control."

"That's good to know," said Alan, "but I'd still like to know why my mom is here."

"I'll explain everything after school," said his mother.

----

Lunch was equally uncomfortable for Binky and Molly, who were enjoying their first meal in captivity at juvenile hall. Binky had spent a summer here before, so the bare walls, high windows, and rows of kids in drab uniforms were familiar sights to him. He knew it would be unpleasant--it had been unpleasant the first time, and unpleasantness was part of the program. Yet spending three months in the free world without Molly's companionship would be even less bearable.

"This food is awful," groused Molly. "The peas are still half frozen, and the meat tastes like shredded cardboard."

"Just wait until dessert," quipped Binky.

To ease the girl's misery, he rested an arm across her shoulders. They smiled at each other, and for a beautiful moment forgot about their grim surroundings. "I'm glad you're here with me," said Molly sweetly.

"No mushy stuff!" barked the warden as he strolled past their table. Binky quickly retracted his arm and blushed. From the looks of it, their time together would be extremely limited during their stay.

Binky poked glumly at the mashed substance on his plate that passed for potatoes. Out of the corner of his eye he watched two uniformed boys shuffle into the lunch room with trays in their hands. One of them, a rat boy, appeared disturbingly familiar...

Jumping to his feet, Binky hurried toward the boy and greeted him warmly. "Dudley Proctor! How did you end up in here?"

The boy appeared quite embarrassed at being recognized. "I'm Dudley Green now," he told Binky quietly. "I was adopted."

"Come and sit with us," Binky offered. Dudley followed him somewhat hesitantly to the table where Molly was finishing her meal.

"Hey, I remember you," said the rabbit girl upon seeing him approach. "You're the kid who turned down membership in the Tough Customers."

"Yes, I am," said Dudley, setting down his tray and taking a seat. "Sadly, my new school has its own gang of toughs, and they were a bit more persuasive."

"What did you do?" inquired Molly. "Or should I ask?"

"You shouldn't ask," replied Dudley, sticking a forkload of half-frozen peas into his mouth.

"We stole diamonds from a museum," said Molly proudly. "At least that's the story we're going with."

"Really," Dudley marveled. "Quite a feat for children of your age."

The three friends took a few more bites of substandard food in silence.

"My adoptive parents are far from pleased with me," said Dudley, "but they say they won't give up on me. I only hope I can make them proud someday....but I probably won't." He sighed. "I can't seem to find happiness in anything but mischief. Oh, I do so hate being a boy."

"Girls rule," muttered Molly through a mouth full of meat.

"The counselor thinks my problem is lack of a male role model," Dudley went on. "I've only been male for half a year, for goodness' sake."

The rough-looking monkey boy across the table from Dudley leaned over to make a comment. "Hey, dork," he said with a mocking tone. "Why do you talk so funny?"

"I'm speaking proper English," the rat boy replied without a pause. "If you can't understand me, then you must have a problem."

"Understand this," snapped the monkey boy, waving a ham-sized fist.

"Back off, man," said Binky, glowering. "He may be a dork, but he's my dork."

"And mine," Molly added.

Apparently intimidated, the monkey boy lowered his fist and calmed down.

"So," he said in a more placid voice, "you guys have names?"

----

Afternoon recess had begun, and Muffy was ambling cheerfully through the school hallway, talking with Beat over a cell phone link. On her way she encountered D.W.'s classmate Emily, who was leaning with her hands against a wall, and seemed rather frightened.

"Is something wrong?" asked Muffy, lowering the cell phone from her ear.

"Yeah," replied the nervous little rabbit girl. "If I don't hold up the wall, it'll fall down and kill me."

"That's silly," Muffy chided her.

"It's true," Emily insisted. "The big fat boy said so."

Sighing impatiently, Muffy grabbed the girl's arm and yanked her away from the wall. Emily screamed in terror, then noticed that the wall was still intact.

"N-nothing happened," she observed with relief.

"Don't thank me," muttered Muffy, and she strolled away rapidly.

She soon heard Beat's voice on her cell phone once again. "I found him," said the rabbit-aardvark girl. "He's at the east end of the lot, by the trees."

"I'm on my way," said Muffy.

C.V. appeared to be basking in the midday sun, or in the ill-gotten glory of having cowed the entire student body into submission, or both. Beat showed no sign of fear as she approached the owl boy with her cell phone firmly planted against her ear.

"Back for more?" C.V. taunted her.

"Your reign of terror is over, Fearmonger," Beat proclaimed. "Like every super-powered individual, you have a weakness--and I just figured out what it is." From the corner of her eye she could see Muffy walking toward them through the grass, pressing her cell phone to her ear.

"Curses," grumbled C.V. sarcastically. "And all along I thought I was invincible. All right, Miss Know-It-All, what's my weakness?"

"Electromagnetic fields, like those created by cell phones," Beat answered. "You couldn't hurt Muffy as badly as you hurt your father, because there was an active cell phone near her head."

The owl boy only stared blankly at Beat as Muffy walked up alongside her. Both girls kept their cell phones positioned at the sides of their heads.

"If you don't believe me," said Beat confidently, "then try using your powers on us."

"You asked for it," warned C.V., who narrowed his eyes and concentrated intensely.

Nothing happened.

"I'm not scared," said Muffy into her phone. "How about you, Beat?"

"I'm not scared either."

Flustered, C.V. gritted his teeth and pushed mentally with all his might.

"Okay, I'm feeling a few butterflies in my stomach," said Muffy. "But it's no worse than going to the dentist."

"Give it up, Fearmonger," Beat ordered. "Your puny fear powers are no match for our cell phones of justice."

Finally despairing of affecting the girls, C.V. relaxed his face and let his arms slump. "All right," he acknowledged with a despondent sigh. "You win."

"I didn't hear that," spoke Muffy into her phone. "Did you hear that, Beat?"

"No, I didn't," replied Beat. "You'll have to speak louder, C.V."

"You win!" the boy bellowed.

"Good." Beat took a threatening step closer to C.V. "Promise you'll stop using your powers to hurt people, or I'll beat the tar out of you."

"I promise," C.V. groaned.

"Sorry? You're cutting out."

"I PROMISE!"

Beat nodded at Muffy, and both girls flipped their phones closed.


	24. Live Long and Prosper

"I hate boys," Nadine grumbled.

"You told me," responded D.W.

The two girls were playing and talking in D.W.'s room, waiting for Maria to return from her job at the jewelry store and take Nadine home.

"I don't want to marry a boy when I grow up," said Nadine as she popped a plastic doll's arm in and out of its socket.

"What else can you do?" asked D.W. rhetorically.

"I'll marry a girl." Smiling ecstatically, Nadine crept on her knees to where D.W. was sitting with her ponies. "I want to marry you."

"Yeah, ri--" D.W. began, but her sentence was muffled.

Nadine leaned over and gently pressed her lips against D.W.'s. The aardvark girl recoiled in shock.

"Ewww!" she exclaimed disgustedly. "You kissed me!"

"I love you, D.W.," Nadine gushed.

"You can't love me," protested D.W., clambering to her feet. "We're both girls."

"So what?" Nadine seemed blissfully oblivious to her friend's complaints.

"What do you mean, so what?" said D.W. incredulously. "You're a girl. I'm a girl. We can't get married. At least not in this state."

Nadine's face fell as the finality of D.W.'s statement sank into her mind.

"Besides," D.W. went on, "my heart already belongs to a special boy."

Nadine's mouth fell open. "Wh-who?"

As D.W. was about to answer, Maria's voice issued from the first floor. "Time to go home, Nadine."

"Just a minute, Mom!" Nadine called back.

"Not just a minute," her mother insisted. "Now."

Maria's voice carried an urgent tone, and Nadine feared to disobey.

"I'll tell you later," D.W. promised her.

Maria didn't speak another word to Nadine until they were on the road. Then the scolding began in earnest.

"Principal Haney told me that you punched a boy," said Maria firmly. "That was a bad thing to do, and I'll have to punish you for it."

"But, Mom, you punched Dr. Rick," Nadine reminded her.

"That's different."

"How is it different?"

Maria struggled to keep her eyes on the street and think of an excuse at the same time.

"Dr. Rick did a very bad thing to Auntie Augusta," she finally said.

"But James did a very bad thing to me," Nadine responded. "He pulled up my dress and looked underneath."

Once again, Maria lacked for an effective comeback.

"You're a hypocrite," Nadine accused her.

Maria gasped. "Where did you learn that word?"

"In kindergarten."

It quickly became clear to Maria that there was only one way to trump her daughter.

Dr. Portinari was stuffing his belongings into several suitcases when a knock came at his door. He answered it, and greeted Maria and Nadine with delight. "I was hoping I could leave your planet forever without any long goodbyes," he said, "but now that you're here, sit down."

Maria seated herself on the easy chair, and Nadine hopped into her lap. The first odd thing Maria noticed was that Portinari's eye showed no sign of bruising.

"I know what you're thinking," said the psychiatrist/alien. "I could adjust my holographic projector to make it look like I have a black eye, but I don't see the point, since I'm not coming back."

"Why aren't you?"

"I don't want to be separated from Augusta," replied Portinari, "prisoner though she may be. Next to the laws of my people, there's nothing in the universe I love more than her." He slammed shut a suitcase full of clothing.

"So that's why you turned her in," Maria mused. "Because you loved the law more than you loved her."

"I turned her in," the alien answered, "because if I hadn't, I would have lost all hope of seeing her again."

Maria fell silent, pondering whether her disdain for the man's actions was misdirected.

"And because it was my duty as a Time Enforcer," he concluded.

"The reason I came," said Maria hesitantly, "was to apologize."

Portinari straightened up and listened intently.

"I'm sorry for punching you," she went on. "And I'm not just apologizing so Nadine can learn that it's wrong to hit people. I'm truly, genuinely sorry."

"I forgive you," said Portinari glibly. "No point in holding a grudge now."

Nadine twisted her head and noticed that her mother's eyes were misting up.

"Losing Angus was the hardest thing that ever happened to me," Maria admitted. "I knew I'd never find another man as good as him, even if I lived a thousand years. I wouldn't have minded it so much if he had died. But he didn't die. Instead he was transformed into a freak. A man who had to learn to live as a woman, who had to suffer all the indignities that women have to endure in this world. Not only was I unhappy, but she had no hope left of happiness. Until you came along. When I thought you'd betrayed her, I lost control. I'm sorry."

Portinari stood silently and allowed the emotion of the moment to wash over his alien body. Finally he bent over, closed up another suitcase, and spoke.

"Augusta's an amazing woman. And she was an amazing man."

Maria nodded tearfully. Lifting Nadine onto the floor, she rose to her feet and laid a tender kiss on Portinari's cheek.

"Thank you for that gesture of affection," said the alien in a cold, logical tone.

Having packed all his earthly possessions, Portinari waved his finger over his wristwatch. Maria and Nadine heard a humming noise, and a large doorway with a blurred frame materialized in the apartment. The doctor first passed his suitcases through the dark portal, then stood to bid the Harrises a final goodbye.

Maria raised her hand and spread her fingers. "Live long and prosper," she whispered.

"The force will be with you," said Portinari with a warm smile. "Always."

He turned and stepped through the portal, which then shrank to the size of a dot and disappeared.

No words passed between Nadine and Maria as they gazed at the empty air through which their friend had vanished.

Finally Nadine broke the silence. "He's a nice man."

Maria nodded. "Yes, he is."

"But he's an alien," Nadine added. "He doesn't count."


	25. Mind Meld

They had nearly finished their dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, and Alan's mother still hadn't answered his persistent question about why she had appeared in the principal's office in the middle of the school day. Indeed, both his parents were behaving in a rather evasive manner, as if someone had just died in the guest bedroom and they didn't want him to find out.

He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "That was good, Mom," he said, pushing himself away from the table.

"I'm glad you liked it," replied Mrs. Powers as she snatched up his plate and slid it into the dishwasher. "Now do your homework, and in about half an hour you and I are going on a little trip."

"Where to?" Alan inquired eagerly.

"You'll see."

It was the most helpful answer he could obtain from her. Anxious to be let in on the secret, he whipped through his math and history problems, and was done by the time Mrs. Powers announced their imminent departure.

"Say hello to her for me," said Mr. Powers as his wife and son departed through the front door.

"Who's he talking about?" wondered Alan.

"You'll see," said his mother, pulling open the car door for him.

He was a patient boy, so he agreed to play the little game. To his surprise, their first stop was C.V.'s house, where the owl boy climbed into the back seat next to him, and Mrs. Oberlin occupied the front passenger seat. Alan felt nervous about being so close to the boy who had spent the day terrorizing the school, but C.V. only smiled at him.

"Don't worry," he said while fastening his seat belt. "I won't use my fear powers on you. I've learned my lesson."

As they drove toward the highway, C.V. filled in Alan on what was going on, at least from his point of view. "I'm going to a special school where I can learn to use my powers for the good of humanity," he explained. "It's like a dream come true. I can finally become a real superhero."

"That's cool," said Alan.

"I'll miss all of you guys," C.V. said fondly. "Especially Muffy. She's a really cool girl, even though she has a hard time understanding me. I guess everyone does."

"Are you saying we'll never see you again?" asked Alan. He was trying to be friendly, but secretly felt that he and many others would be much happier if the boy were left on a deserted island with a few crates of food.

"You'll see me now and then," C.V. answered. "But I'll spend most of my time at my new school."

The half-hour drive was uneventful, and Alan constantly wondered why his mother had involved herself, not to mention him, in the affairs of the strange Oberlin family.

They arrived in front of a modest-sized building marked simply, BALLFORD PREPARATORY SCHOOL. Mrs. Powers and Mrs. Oberlin led the boys into the brick structure, whose interior resembled not so much a school as a laboratory. The hallways seemed almost to be built out of bare drywall, and some areas lacked a ceiling, so that cables hung freely overhead.

Shortly they encountered a red-haired poodle woman who wore a purple dress and a nametag. "Welcome to Ballford," she greeted them. "I'm Dr. Payne, but you can call me Cindy. Which one of you is Charles?"

"That would be me," C.V. replied.

Dr. Payne, mused Alan. A name like that was never a good sign.

C.V. and his mother followed the poodle woman into a room containing rows of chairs, and then Alan's mother led him down another hallway. The people they met wore strained smiles, as if they desperately wanted to appear normal.

"Uh, Mom, where are we going?" asked Alan. "And don't say 'you'll see'."

"There's someone here who wants to see you," Mrs. Powers told him. "Someone who hasn't seen you for a long time."

Before long they were met by an aardvark man who also wore a nametag. "Ah, Mrs. Powers," he said with a vaguely Slavic accent. "She's been asking about you all day. She thinks about little else."

"This is my son, Alan."

The odd-mannered fellow shook hands with Alan, and introduced himself as Dr. Minkowski. "This way," he said, and brought them to a room numbered 28.

"This is your first time," he warned Alan as he was about to enter the security code. "What you are about to experience may confuse or even frighten you, but I promise you will not be harmed in any way."

The doctor's words gave Alan no reassurance. He almost felt as if he was walking onto a spaceship as he and his mother stepped through the padded white door.

It clicked shut behind them, and Alan found himself in the strangest living room he had ever seen. The floor was covered with shag carpet, and several pieces of comfortable-looking furniture were present, but the walls...

The walls appeared to be composed of nothing but whiteboard, and there was hardly a square inch that hadn't been covered with all manner of scrawlings. Some intensely creative person had gone to work with a set of colored markers, leaving behind intricate drawings of people and buildings, entire musical compositions, and row after row of complicated mathematical equations. Alan could barely stop himself from gasping.

From behind a corner appeared a smiling bear girl with wavy blond hair, who looked to be about fourteen years old. She wore a red blouse and slacks, and several shiny rings on her fingers. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree when she laid eyes on Alan.

Just as the boy was about to ask his mother who this strange girl was, a weird, indescribable, almost staggering sensation filled his mind.

He couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening to him. He was still standing on his own feet, gazing at the girl with his own eyes--yet somehow, he was also looking at himself through the girl's eyes. All the questions he meant to ask about her were suddenly answered, as if he had known the answers all along. Her name was Tegan, and she was his sister.

"But I don't have a sister," he tried to say.

It all came to him at once. Ballford was no ordinary school, but an institution for children with special and potentially dangerous abilities, like C.V. and Tegan. His sister had lived here since his infancy, which explained why he didn't remember her. Tegan possessed the most advanced human brain ever known to science, and had mastered every realm of knowledge. Yet she was more than a mere "sponge brain"--she wielded an amazing and terrifying power.

Alan tried to block out the answers flooding into his brain, and reflect on his bizarre condition. He didn't know how it was possible, but the thoughts and feelings of his mother and Tegan were coursing through his mind alongside his own, to the point that he could no longer tell who was thinking what. Tegan had made it happen--she had dissolved the boundaries between their identities. They could hide nothing from each other. They had become a unified consciousness.

It was both shocking and embarrassing. Alan's mind was an open book--his mother could read everything he had been afraid to admit about himself. In addition, he realized things about her that he knew were none of his business. To add to his chagrin, he suddenly knew exactly how it felt to be a 14-year-old girl and a grown woman. Disgust and horror filled his heart, and was shared among the three of them.

No words were exchanged as they mulled over their recent life experiences and enjoyed some peanut butter cookies the school had provided. Tegan was extremely happy to see Alan after so many years, and marveled at how much he had grown and how smart he had become. She described her comfortable but confining existence at the school to him, shared some new results in quantum theory that she had discovered, and explained why it was important for her to remain hidden from the world. Alan found it remarkable that the girl seemed perfectly well-mannered and well-adjusted, at least for someone who communicated by pure thought, in spite of having spent more than half her life in what almost qualified as solitary confinement.

Their visit lasted for about fifteen minutes, by which time Alan had grown accustomed to the collective sharing of their minds. He even loathed it when Dr. Minkowski closed the security door, severing his mental connection with Tegan and his mother. He was alone with his own thoughts again.

Mrs. Oberlin had plenty of questions for Mrs. Powers as they made their way to the school's parking lot, but Alan had none. The situation had been made totally clear to him. He thought it unfair that Tegan would never enjoy a normal life because of her gift, and C.V. might suffer a similar fate, but he saw no way it could be avoided. His sister was fully aware that her unusual powers could be applied to purposes of evil.

As he pulled the seat belt around his waist, his mother turned around and smiled. "Want to get some ice cream, Alan?" she asked.

Alan grinned. "I was thinking the same thing."


End file.
